


Happy Endings

by Anonymous



Series: Charmers [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Hunk (Voltron), Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Awkward Romance, Character Death In Dream, Drunken Shenanigans, Exes, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Meet the Family, Memes, Omega Keith (Voltron), Omega Lance (Voltron), Omega Verse, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 231,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lance has moved into Shiro's NYC brownstone and Keith has moved into Hunk's L.A. Craftsman.  Wedding bells are ringing, but nobody is in any big rush, there's plenty of time.Right?I'm back to mess around with more fairy-tale tropes, including Fairy Godfathers, wicked stepmothers, and unrealistically fast nuptials!  This is the sequel to Charming Young Man and will make more sense if you read that first, but here's the short version: Pretty Woman happened and it was Shance and Heith.
Relationships: Acxa/Narti (Voltron), Adam/Curtis (Voltron), Allura/Shay (Voltron), Colleen Holt/Sam Holt, Coran/Dayak (Voltron), Hunk/Keith (Voltron), Kuro/Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt/Ryan Kinkade, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Charmers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576792
Comments: 84
Kudos: 89
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Dressed For Success

**Author's Note:**

> When I was first outlining this, it was just going to be a romp about two weddings, but eventually it morphed (much like Keith's wedding, a reference which will become clear later) into this fic about three weddings, a whole bunch of get-togethers, a couple of divorces and a memorial service. As usual, I will update the tags as pairings appear, and while I'm on that topic: don't worry Curtis stans, ya boy will be fine.

“Thanks again for taking on that double, Keith.” Ilun walked up beside Keith as he was leaving the omega changing room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a lift home?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Keith shrugged into his motorcycle jacket and grinned at his boss. “See you tomorrow? Or technically, today.”

Ilun grinned back at him. “Yeah, see you later.”

Really, Keith didn’t mind pulling a double shift. The main customer demanding omega services at the moment was a spoiled brat named Luka, but while she kept him on his toes she also tipped well. He’d done a lot worse things for cash than being asked to answer the loaded question of whether a garment made somebody’s butt look big. Keith was of the mind that the fact he answered her baldly had won him some points (and the tips). Spandex made everybody’s butt look big, that was the whole point of wearing spandex.

Keith’s trip home was a lot safer than he’d had to contend with in years, and this time of the day, with the dawn sending pink rays into the purple sky as the street lights gradually winked out, was one of his favorite times to be outside. He enjoyed every second of the twenty minute ride on his Honda Express, which he now got to keep in a proper garage instead of leaning against the wall next to his bed.

He still had trouble believing sometimes that this was his life now. He cut the motor and coasted around the picket fence (he lived in a house with a freaking picket fence how trippy was that) and rolled to a stop in front of the two car garage. Well. One car and one scooter garage. He carried his scooter up onto the front porch and took off his shoes before letting himself in. He didn’t want the garage door to wake up Hunk before his alarm clock did. Keith’s own bedroom, which he had all to himself, was on the corner of the house facing the front and side yards. Hunk’s was on the opposite side next to what used to be the entrance to the other duplex and what was now the back patio since Hunk had converted the Craftsman back into a single family dwelling.

Keith wasn’t making for his bed yet, though. He crept through the foyer to the kitchen. Hunk would be up soon and Keith wanted to have breakfast/dinner ready before then. He started the rice in the rice cooker and then pulled out ingredients to make tamago-don. When he had the onions simmering and the eggs beaten and waiting to be added, he was ready to face the one thing in Hunk’s awesomely equipped kitchen he had yet to master: the coffee machine. It had nozzles and shit on it, what the fuck even.

He stared down the stainless steel appliance squatting on the homey counter top. Thin morning light filtered in through the blinds and glinted off the machine, mockingly. An Ennio Marricone soundtrack began whistling in Keith’s mind.

Yeah... Maybe not this round. It was time call in the reinforcements. Keith pulled his phone out of his cross-body pouch. It was after 9 am in New York, he had to be up, right?

Lance picked up immediately, his green-masked face too close to the phone’s camera.

_“Keith, thank God! I need your help.”_ Lance held the phone away from his body and went to stand in front of a large closet with two black jumpsuits hanging from hooks on the open French doors. _“Which one says ‘I am in charge of my destiny’ to you?”_

Keith thought Lance was asking for a tall order out of some clothes. Both jumpsuits were black with lace detailing around the neckline. One was a halter top with flared legs, the other a boat neck with pegged hems.

“They both say ‘I’m going to a party after this.’ Don’t you have anything in red? Red is a power color.”

Lance frowned. _“I am going somewhere later and I won’t have time to change. Oo, wait!”_ Keith got a view of a bouclé rug and bare feet as Lance disappeared into the depths of his closet and rummaged around. _“How about this?”_

Lance stepped back to reveal a sleeveless jumpsuit with a bolero jacket on a hanger beside it, and a detachable skirt on a separate hanger on the other side of it. They were all dyed the same shade of bold ‘look at me’ red.

_“I’ll wear the jacket to the interview and then to meet Darrell, and then I’ll switch to the skirt for dinner and the opera. Yeah?”_

Lance had a meeting with an admissions officer at a cosmetology school and then was going to meet with one of his father’s old friends whom he was seeing in person for the first time in several years. He’d been worrying about both meetings for days. What Lance tended to forget he had going for him was his pure tenacity. He could have worn his old blue spangled booty shorts and probably still managed to get whatever he needed.

But that red outfit was pretty kick-ass and would surely smooth the way better than booty shorts could.

“Yeah that’s perfect, go for it. But also, would you teach me again how to use the espresso machine?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance couldn’t help smiling even though it cracked his mask, as he tied his dressing robe on tighter and carried the phone down the switchback staircase. Hunk had a top of the line espresso machine in his kitchen, with a pressure gauge, a frother, basically all the bells and whistles an aficionado would want. It was not the sort of coffee machine a beginner Barista would want to learn on, and Lance was sure Hunk would happily invest in a Chemex if he knew how much trouble Keith had been having learning to use his rig, but Keith was bound and determined he was going to master it so Lance had decided not to be that little birdie yet. Once Keith got that particular ‘I will conquer you’ scowl on his face, there was no longer any question. That espresso machine was going down.

Lance didn’t waste valuable minutes on a verbal explanation this time. They had tried that route already and it had resulted in a rock-hard tamp that delivered a slow-flowing black sludge out of the coffee machine. They had tried written instructions and Keith had gotten the coffee right, but the milk became a bubbling boiled mess. So now they were going for a visual demonstration. This meant invading Haruka Shinobu’s domain, but once she saw Keith’s wooby face on the video chat she’d surely relent.

Lance’s third floor bedroom suite faced the street with a large bay window and was directly across the hall from Shiro’s bedroom suite: the owner’s suite with a terrace overlooking the back garden. When asked why he continually inhabited rooms with terraces, given how Shiro felt about heights, Lance was given a predictable answer. _“Because it’s the best.”_ He even had his home office and his music room way up on the fifth floor, because the top floor guaranteed the most quiet for when he was working from home or just wanted to lose a few hours on the baby grand. Shiro was not one to allow a little thing such as a major inconvenience interfere with him having the best quality of any pursuit, which was actually something he had in common with Keith and probably one of the reasons Haruka liked him so much.

Kai and his wife Haruka lived in the garden floor suite, for easiest access to the kitchen, street and basement. The parlor floor between their floor and Lance and Shiro’s was taken up by two of Lance’s favorite places in the townhouse besides Shiro’s bed: a small front parlor with cozy chairs and shelves filled with books, and a larger rear parlor with velvet couches and a state of the art home theater system. Both parlors had fireplaces and nice memories of cuddling up with Shiro for nights in, when they’d first gotten home. 

Of course Shiro had to go back to work, Lance had known he would. He still missed him during the day. Hopefully this meeting with the cosmetology school would go well. Then he’d have something to do during the long daytime hours besides risk Haruka’s displeasure by daring to clean things.

The townhouse had three other bedrooms and a tiny office on the fourth floor. Those bedrooms presently stood empty in case of guests or the patter of little feet. Lance hoped to make the tiny office his own soon. It was even odds on which of the two couples taking up permanent residence in the house would be the first to contribute to the patter of little feet. Haruka was a frosty goddess but her beautifully stern visage softened like snow-melt for Kai. And, occasionally, for Keith. 

Lance finally alighted on the garden floor, walking under the beautifully detailed lattice transom over the landing leading into the garden floor foyer. If he kept going straight he could exit under the tall front stoop and have himself a nice walk. He’d done a lot of exploring on foot in his quest to find things to do, since cooking and cleaning were unexpectedly off the table. But aimless wandering, as delightful as it could be in their Upper East Side neighborhood, was not on the agenda for today. He turned himself around and headed for the kitchen.

The townhouse featured an enormous eat-in kitchen, with the dining area separated from the kitchen proper only by a long quartz-topped island. Behind that island stood Haruka, her huge mass of black hair pinned to the back of her head in a giant bun with her bangs falling to frame her lovely face like sideburns. She was trimming the stems off broccoli rabe, probably prepping for the next day’s meal since Shiro was taking Lance out to dinner that night. The beta looked up at Lance’s entrance, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

“You are walking around in public looking like that?”

Lance touched the purple microfiber towel on his head self-consciously. “What are you talking about?” Underneath of it, his hair was enjoying a moisture treatment. “I’m not in public.”

“What if someone were to knock on the door?” Haruka was beside herself. “You look like the Green Goblin!”

“Oh please, like you would let me answer the door anyway.” They had actually raced one time. Lance would have won too if she hadn’t hurdled over an end table to get past him.

Haruka began energetically chopping while ranting in Japanese, her ozonic scent taking on a burnt tinge.

“Look, I’m not here to mess with your flow,” Lance rushed to reassure her. “I just want to show Keith how to use an espresso machine.”

Haruka stopped chopping and looked up. “Keith?”

“Yeah.” Lance held up the phone Shiro had gotten him, a Samsung Galaxy just like his except Lance’s was blue and didn’t have as many apps on it yet. “See?”

_“Hai, Kogane desu!”_

Haruka was suddenly all smiles. “Ohayō!”

Lance handed Haruka the phone so that she could chat with Keith like he was her long lost little brother and went to the espresso machine on the counter behind the island. It was the same brand as Hunk’s but a different model. Lance figured it was similar enough that Keith would be able to follow along. He went ahead and measured some espresso beans out of the airtight canister on the counter and ground them in the machine’s conical burr grinder. 

Hunk’s model didn’t have the attached grinder, but according to Keith, Hunk had started grinding beans and sealing them in a baggie next to the machine before he went to bed, so maybe he wasn’t completely clueless that his mate-to-be was having some problems making coffee. When Lance turned around, Haruka and Keith were both watching him, Haruka holding the phone up on top of the kitchen island.

“I will allow you to use the espresso machine this time,” Haruka said distrustfully, “because you are helping Keith.”

Rude! “I’m not gonna break it.”

“We shall see.” Haruka gestured like a queen granting a favor. “Proceed with the lesson.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk blinked awake seconds before the snooze alarm went off, playing sunshiny pop to match the clear sunny day the digital display promised was in store. He reached one arm out from under the duvet to turn off the music and sat up in the California King sized bed when he smelled what was wafting its way over from the kitchen.

“He did it!” Hunk beamed proudly. 

It had been so hard to resist stepping in once he’d realized Keith was having trouble with the espresso machine. He hated seeing Keith frustrated, but he knew him well enough by now to realize that Keith hated for anyone to treat him like a helpless omega. Hunk knew Keith was going to figure out how to work the machine when he’d caught him standing before it while reading an email from Lance out loud, with that ‘I will not be defeated’ look on his face. 

Okay, so maybe Hunk hadn’t previously been in the habit of pre-grinding his coffee beans. There was only so much interference he could be expected to resist, damn it.

He tugged a t-shirt over his head and shuffled into his house slippers before following his nose to the kitchen where he was greeted by the sight of his intended doing a little victory dance in front of the counter, where his phone lay face up. Cheering noises emanated from it, probably Lance and his housekeeper-nemesis Haruka. Lance had moped at him over the phone a few times about that issue, but Hunk suspected that she was only being protective as a steward of the household and Lance only needed to continue being his charming self to get on her good side.

Keith turned mid-bop and spotted Hunk standing there. His face lit up in fierce joy.

“Hunk! I made coffee!”

“You sure did, it smells awesome in here.”

Without warning (as was his wont) Keith took a running leap at Hunk, who caught him mid-glomp before Keith laid one on him. Hunk stood still, enjoying the solid weight of his fiancé in his arms, their warm mouths sharing breath as Keith’s scent mixed sweetly with the breakfast scents in the room.

“What a beautiful morning,” Hunk said when they finally came up for air. “I just know it’s gonna lead to a great day.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Your coffee is acceptable.” Haruka lowered the moriage cup to its matching saucer on the kitchen island. “I will allow you privileges with the espresso machine so long as you demonstrate to me that you also know how to clean it.”

“Piece of cake.” 

Lance continued to sip from his own cup. His coffee was a damn sight better than acceptable, and he knew how to clean an espresso machine like a pro, because during his last year of school in Cuba he’d been responsible for maintaining the one at the hotel where most of his family worked.

In spite of the doubt being thrown his way, Lance’s confidence was on the uptick. If he was capable of convincing Haruka to unclench a little of her iron control of the kitchen before lunch, then surely the rest of the day would go equally well.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Acxa carefully set the silver tray down on the bedside table. In the queen-sized bed, Lotor rustled under the flax linen bed covers but did not roll over to face her. Acxa sighed.

“Your coffee and pastries are here.” At three o’clock in the afternoon Central European Time. “I’ll just draw the curtains for you.” She opened the velvet-lined curtains to allow daylight to chase the shadows from the room.

“So I can look at the neighbor’s roof all day?” came a grumpy voice from under the covers. “Why wasn’t I given the room with the view of the street?”

“Because that is your mother’s room,” Acxa reminded him for the umpteenth time. The penthouse floor of the four storey row house had two bedrooms, and as Honerva was the master of this house it was only fitting that she got the master bedroom. “She wants to see us both at dinner tonight, so you’ll want to start rousing yourself.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do,” Lotor groused. Only the blond top of his head had emerged from underneath the sheets.

“You won’t like it if Merla comes up here to get you,” Acxa warned him before leaving the bedroom to return to the row house’s ground floor where Honerva kept her offices.

Merla would take vicious glee in turning Lotor out of bed. She’d almost been the one assigned to protect his body up close. Everybody knew Honerva had favored her for it, as she was the most cunning among them at close quarters combat; but when the winnowed candidates were sent to interact with Lotor at a gala in the Hamptons, it was Acxa who had won his favor. Merla still felt slighted about it, even though she’d since decided she wasn’t all that interested in Lotor’s body.

Acxa descended the spiral staircase, past the third floor staff bedrooms and the second floor formal living space to the waiting room where the receptionist on shift sat behind a glossy white desk. Acxa nodded at him and Herreh nodded back. She turned and strode down the narrow hall past the conference room, headed straight for Honerva’s private office where she could see Narti standing in front of Honerva’s desk through the partially opened door.

“Good of you to join us, Acxa.” Honerva’s manner with her was so formal that Acxa frequently forgot that she was technically her mother-in-law. “Narti is here with her report on Holt’s activities, I would like you to listen in. Close the door behind you, if you would.”

Acxa closed the door and followed Narti’s cue of standing at parade rest. Honerva’s office looked out on a tiny walled-in garden, letting in light and a view of some greenery, but little chance of hostile eyes. Even a drone would be spotted immediately.

“You may be seated,” Honerva said.

Acxa and Narti dropped into bergère marquise chairs. Behind a whimsically shaped Lucite desk, Honerva leaned back in a bergère à la reine chair. 

“Holt has obtained a federal warrant for search and seizure,” Narti began, and this was important news because it meant her team would soon gain access to property outside of Los Angeles county. 

Acxa had made sure that as much incriminating evidence as she was aware of was destroyed before she’d left the house in L.A., and she’d gotten off a warning to Lotor’s head of security at the Manigford building as well, but she couldn’t be sure about the beach house in the Hamptons, the lake house in Boulder, or any other bolt hole Lotor might have that Acxa hadn’t managed to suss out. She searched her gut for the sense of violation she should have at the thought of hostile strangers pawing through her things, but she just didn’t feel it. None of those belongings had ever truly felt like hers.

“I’ll just have to keep him here in Brussels with me,” Honerva decided after Narti had concluded her report. She didn’t sound at all displeased about having her son living practically in her lap for the foreseeable future.

“We’ll need to find something for him to do,” Acxa spoke up, and she hated to be the killjoy but it had to be said. A bored Lotor was a Lotor who was going to create his own fun, and when he did that, trouble tended to follow shortly thereafter.

“Yes, of course you’re right about that,” Honerva sighed. “I can’t have him working with me in any official capacity as of yet, but perhaps there is something unofficial I can put him in charge of. It has been some time since I’ve hosted a cocktail party. Competently executed schmoozing never hurt anyone’s reputation.”

Acxa’s malaise began to ease. Lotor did love a good party.

“Should we invite Holt’s son again?” Narti asked. “If we catch him wearing a wire outside of his mother’s jurisdiction it could give us some leverage.” Not much got past Narti’s security sweeps. She had remotely detected the bug Matthew Holt-Kinkade wore to the party Lotor threw for Shirogane, and had remotely deactivated it.

“I don’t think so,” Honerva said, and Acxa agreed. 

That had been a calculated risk which had paid off in confirmation that Lotor was under investigation. There was nothing to be gained from repeating the experiment, assuming that Holt-Kinkade would even RSVP on an invitation from overseas.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Colleen Holt leaned back in her home office’s lumbar support task chair, enjoying a cup of fog chaser in one of the gilded porcelain cups Sam had inherited from his grandmother. It brought to mind, as using this china often did, that day when Nonna Sofia had pressed her hand against Colleen’s belly, swollen with her first child, and wished upon her a girl or an omega, so that her children might only get a small measure of the wanderlust that according to Sofia all Rossos were cursed with to varying degrees.

As it so happened, she’d eventually had one of each, and they were both so headstrong and adventurous that Colleen would happily visit them in Antarctica if it just meant they stayed out of trouble. Having one alpha and one omega was not what either of their beta parents had seen in the cards when they’d decided to go forth and multiply. Those two had kept her reaching for the aspirin even as they filled her life with joy. Their Marina Style house felt quiet and empty without them in it, but one of them was bound to remedy that soon with a call that would make her glad her hair was short, because it was harder to tear out that way.

Her computer monitor woke with the jaunty tune of an incoming video chat, as if the universe had known it had been too long since her last heart attack. Matt’s name and face popped up on the incoming call window. She clicked to answer the call.

_“Hey Mom.”_ Matt grinned with his shoulders slightly hunched, an expression and posture that told Colleen he had exciting news and was sitting on his hands trying to contain himself. _“I have something to tell you!”_

“Are you pregnant?”

_“What?”_ Matt’s face morphed through a series of expressions lightning fast, revealing the shifting state of his emotions. His father had the same trait. _“No! Do I have to be pregnant to call and tell you something?”_

“I’m sorry.” She could have hoped it would be something that innocuous. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was pressuring you for grandkids. What’s your news?”

_“Ryan’s being assigned on temporary duty to Chièvres Air Base, and I get to go with him!”_

One heart attack, coming right up. “No.”

Matt’s expression veered into full-on Holt Obstinate (they should trademark it). _“I don’t know how to break this to you Mom, but your legal right to boss me around is long gone.”_

Colleen knew Matt, so she knew better than to take that statement at face value. “Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to drop in on Honerva Manigford unannounced.”

To his credit, Matt didn’t even try to deny it. _“I could go in wired again.”_

“You got lucky the last time.” Manigford’s security had caught the decoy wire, but not the real one. “If you were to be caught wearing a wire in her house, I would have very little influence to bear on getting you out of hot water.” Speaking of influence. “What does Ryan think about this proposed side trip?”

_“He says I’m not day tripping to Brussels without him.”_

That sounded like Ryan. Colleen remembered a family dinner not long after she’d first met Ryan Kinkade, when she’d caught him alone in the kitchen and asked him how he dealt with Matt’s tendency to crave experiences the way other people craved security. He had told her, _“I do not deal with it. I abide with it.”_ That’s when she’d known for sure that Ryan was going to become her son-in-law.

“Matthew, I want you safe much more than I want Lotor Manigford locked in a cell.”

Matt smiled ruefully. _“I know Mom.”_

This was not comforting to Colleen, the smile nor the statement, because she knew that Matt wanted Lotor in a cell more than he valued his own safety.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“I must say, I like the answers you’ve given me today Lance.”

Lance sat across from the admissions officer, Romelle Pollux, in a small conference room at the Oriande School of Cosmetology’s Tribeca campus. She wore her shiny hair in a partial updo that looked far more breezy than it probably had been to accomplish, and she was rocking an aqua lower lid color pop look. She was style goals in a winter pastel package with an adorable accent that Lance couldn’t quite place.

“There’s only one concern that I have, and it’s that I don’t know very much about your alma mater.”

He had been afraid of that. Darrell and Shiro had contracted with a P.I. working out of Miami to obtain copies of Lance’s birth certificate and school transcripts, but the latter meant little when it was impossible to call any of his old teachers on the phone for a reference. He’d taken both a driver education course and the TASC online in the days after Shiro returned to work, partly to cover his bases and partly to stave off loneliness and boredom. As an omega betrothed to a New York resident, his status permitted him to do so from home so long as he kept the webcam trained on him for the duration of the tests. However, he wouldn’t get the TASC results back for another few weeks and he was on the verge of going stir crazy. 

He had really been hoping to start classes during the Winter quarter, Spring at the latest. Thoughts of Shiro reminded him of something he’d shared once about his own mother’s conservatory days; pillow talk late at night in Shiro’s ginormous upholstered bed. Maybe a similar compromise could help Lance get his foot in the door at Oriande.

“I’d love the chance to prove myself to you,” Lance said. “Is there some way that I could audit a class, or take a seminar in order to demonstrate my commitment?”

“Actually,” Romelle tapped her pen thoughtfully on the laminate surface of the square conference table, “that’s a wonderful idea, and we do have a two-day class coming up that might just be perfect. It’s a continuing education course on how to create looks for special occasions. Would you be interested?”

“Yes, I would!”

They hashed out the details and when Lance stepped out onto the sidewalk it was with a lighter heart and wallet. He was going to burn through his earnings from The Week That Changed Everything in a hurry at this rate, but if all went well he’d be able to replenish it himself by making his own money.

Lance stood at the curb as Kai coasted up from the parking garage where he’d waited during the meeting. Lance intended to eventually start using the subway, but Shiro was still all alpha-antsy about letting him venture far from home on his own. Most errands outside of their neighborhood were arranged so that Kai took him wherever he needed to go while Shiro was in the office. Lance let himself into the back of the limo, which was almost exactly like the one Shiro had rented in L.A. It was an extended wheelbase Rolls-Royce of the same year and model, except this one was hansom cab black instead of smoke grey, with an interior the color of cream rather than clouds. 

Lance had explained to Kai early on that he didn’t stand on ceremony, and besides that they were on a time crunch. They had a four mile trip that was going to take over twenty minutes as it was, longer if a traffic jam happened. If they could shave off a little time by Lance not having to wait for Kai to get out of the car to let him in, Lance was all for that.

Riding through heavy traffic in the back of a limo was about as relaxing as riding through heavy traffic could ever hope to be. Outside, drivers laid on the horn and pedestrians tested fate by jaywalking across the middle of the street, while inside Lance swayed with the gentle movements of the car’s magnificent suspension system. His stomach was in knots. He hadn’t conversed with Darrell outside of email for days, hadn’t seen him in person for years. Shiro had booked his stay at a nice Midtown Manhattan hotel, as a thank you for all the help he was giving them in proving Lance’s paternity and acting as the point of contact with the private investigator. Lance was going to meet him in the attached restaurant while Kai parked and got himself a coffee.

Kai pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel, and a valet rushed out from under the canopy to open the door. When it became clear that Kai was not handing over the keys, the valet instead turned to Lance to help him up out of the door he’d already opened. Lance smiled and bore it with good humor, and reached into his bolero jacket’s hidden pocket for cash. He understood very well the need to hustle for tips, as Cuban tourist areas could be similar in that regard, but he still experienced a moment of disorientation every time he found himself being the one hustled for the tips.

Lance nodded to Kai before stepping under the restaurant’s blue awning. He had the same arrangement with the chauffeur that Shiro did for meal outings: Kai would return in two hours unless a phone call was made requesting him to do otherwise. A waiter in a half bistro apron approached Lance in the vestibule.

“Your party, serah?”

“Reservations for two under the name Stoker,” Lance replied.

“Your party is waiting serah, please follow me.”

The waiter led him through rooms decorated in Aegean blue and Corinthian white, lit by bowl pendant lanterns and sublime with the scents of herbs and roasting food. The waiter slowed as they neared a pair of café tables settled under a massive curio cabinet filled with objet d’art. A familiar brunet in a black turtleneck stood up from one of the tables as they drew near.

“Lance!” Darrell Stoker smiled and offered his hands. “It’s great to see you, you look amazing!”

“Thank you, I’m so glad to see you too.” Lance accepted the hand clasp and stepped close enough to smell his Christmas tree scent, within the boundaries permitted for family members of unmated omegas. Darrell was the first person to go out of his way to help Lance since he’d arrived on these shores, and he wouldn’t forget it.

They sat and placed their lunch orders and then noshed on the complimentary bread basket while they waited.

“He’s treating you well?” Darrell asked, and Lance wasn’t surprised at the question. Coerced courtship was unfortunately all too common, especially when the omega was a disadvantaged one like Lance.

“He is,” Lance said earnestly. “In fact, we’d love for you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.” Lance swallowed. “For the blessing.” Since his parents could not engage in the ritual. Darrell had been one of Charles McClain’s closest friends and Lance did not think there was anyone better suited to act in his stead.

“I’d be honored,” Darrell said, equally earnestly. “Of course I’ll come.”

Darrell had succeeded in gaining custody of Charles’s remains, and Shiro had ordered DNA testing on the bone fragments which had proven that Lance was Charles’s son. Lance had applied for a social security number and Shiro had applied his influence to goosing that along. Lance’s new life would probably still be a daydream if Darrell hadn’t unselfishly offered aid at key moments.

“Lance,” Darrel went on, looking vaguely uncomfortable, “there’s something else we need to discuss. Oh, thank you.”

Their waiter materialized out of the lunch crowd to place their order on the table between them: spanakopita, a cheese selection, and a pitcher of the house lemonade. He swept up their bread plates and laid down course plates.

Lance waited until they had both been served from the platters and the waiter had departed. It was not just politeness. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“I feel kind of bad bringing this up now,” Darrell admitted as they both tasted the excellent food.

Lance looked up in understanding. “It’s about my father, isn’t it?” Specifically about his cremains, which Lance knew Darrell still had in his possession.

“Yes.” Darrell seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at not having to broach the delicate topic on an unwary Lance. “I feel like we should have some kind of a memorial ceremony for him.”

“I agree.”

Darrell nodded. “And I also wanted to find out if you want to have him interred, or scattered.”

The faint scrape of silverware over porcelain carried from nearby tables as Lance thought it over. 

“What do you think he would have wanted?” 

The simple truth was that while Lance might be the one bearing DNA in common with the man they were discussing, Darrell had actually known him in life.

“I think he would have wanted to be wherever your mother is,” Darrell said solemnly.

With a tight squeeze in his chest, Lance realized that one of his fondest wishes, to know beyond doubt that his father had loved his mother, was true, even as at the same time he realized that despite all of his new advantages he had no power to grant his father’s own true wish.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Baby, I Love Your Way” was playing from somewhere nearby. Keith snuggled deeper under the covers of the daybed. Hunk had wanted to replace the bed with something bigger, but Keith had nixed that. The daybed was a full-size, which he was used to, and it had padding along two sides of it which was really comfy to scooch back into. The music stopped, then restarted.

_♪ I can see the sunset in your eyes... ♪_

Keith’s eyes blinked open. That was his ringtone for Hunk. He fumbled for it on the butler’s desk next to the bed. “Moshi moshi,” he mumbled sleepily.

_“When were you gonna tell me that tomorrow is your birthday?”_

“Huh?” Keith pulled the phone away from his face. Oct 22 stared at him big as life from the home screen. “Oh damn, I forgot.” 

His life had grown kind of busy lately, and he still hadn’t told Akane he’d moved. If she tried to call him at the omega flophouse and found out from Morvok, she was gonna light his eardrums on fire.

_“You’re lucky Lance ordered red velvet cupcakes from Sprinkles, mister.”_

Awww. Keith smiled as he stretched under the covers like a cat.

_“They called to confirm delivery for tomorrow.”_

“I’m sorry they bugged you at work.” Keith stifled a yawn. “How come they didn’t call me?”

_“They said they tried, but you didn’t pick up.”_

He must have slept through the default ringtone. Not the first time.

_“You better prepare yourself because I’m gonna romance the hell out of you tomorrow.”_

“I’m working tomorrow though.”

_“Then I’m gonna romance the hell out of you at work.”_

Keith laughed. Hunk was so sweet he just wanted to eat him up like a cupcake. Then he grinned. Maybe he could get a little birthday action out of this. Not that he hadn’t been getting any action, Hunk was no monk.

He was, however, the most romantic person Keith had ever met, and had been insisting on saving one particular pleasure for their wedding night. But what was a birthday if not a perfect opportunity to bust out the birthday suit?

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance was an old hat at rustling in and out of clothes in the backseat of a car. He’d never had to worry about wrinkling those clothes before, though. The car’s privacy screens were engaged (with just the touch of a button, no wonder Shiro loved this model so much that he rarely deviated from it even when he had the opportunity) and Kai was using the mirrors to navigate traffic. Lance trusted Kai’s driving skills implicitly but he didn’t want to force him to rely on only the mirrors for any longer than he had to.

He slipped out of the Oxford heels and into the opera pumps, placing the Oxfords in the shoe bag that was part of this car’s onboard luggage kit. He was glad he was wearing hosiery under the jumpsuit, because The Big Apple was colder than L.A. and his tootsies could feel it even in the climate controlled backseat of the vehicle. He shrugged out of the bolero jacket and carefully placed it inside the garment carrier, removing the detachable skirt, which he spread out on the seat behind him and secured around his waist with the hidden snap closure. He’d been sitting in this jumpsuit all afternoon, but he’d been careful not to cross his legs so the wrinkles were minimal. The skirt should hide what little had crept in.

He had long opera gloves dyed to match the outfit, but they would not be practical for dinner, so he took the velvet stole out of the garment bag, black to match the opera pumps, and tied it around his shoulders. That should keep him reasonably warm, even more so if he were to pair it with the gloves later, but doing that would deprive Shiro of a peek of skin crease, which Lance had discovered he had a thing for. Shiro wouldn’t mind if Lance chose warmth over sexy, but Lance would. He purred at the thought of how Shiro might show his appreciation later.

Now for the piece de resistance. Lance opened the accessory bag. Tucked next to the quilted glove box was a leather box in Tiffany blue. He unzipped it and input the code to release the courting necklace from its security bar. Sometimes he still had trouble believing this jewelry belonged to him. He reached forward and tapped the mirror suction-cupped to the back of the pull-down tray table to activate its LED lights. 

This mirror didn’t come with the Rolls, it was Lance’s own, one of a few items he’d brought from L.A. that he still used regularly. The car had vanity mirrors, but they were just two little triangles in the most inconvenient possible spots unless he wanted to check the back of his hair. Cars like these were really designed to maximize an alpha’s comfort. Lance secured the courting necklace’s clasp and just stared at it around his neck for a moment. Yellow gold glinted, dainty round-cut rubies glimmered and a giant pear-cut sapphire winked in the reflection from a mirror he’d bought at a Rite Aid. This was really his.

By the time he’d touched up his hair and makeup and disengaged the privacy screens, Kai was pulling up to the curb in front of a nine-storey art deco building in the financial district. Shiro kept his offices on the ninth floor, because of course he did. ( _“It’s the best. Why do you still look so surprised whenever I say that?”_ ) Striding down the concrete steps in one of those Kiton suits that made him look like a long drink of water on a hot thirsty day was none other than the man himself: Shiro, who was going to be Lance’s mate, and with any luck Lance would get to peel him out of that suit before the night was through.

Kai got out of the car and opened the back door, because Shiro did stand on ceremony. He nodded to Kai and grinned appreciatively at Lance as he ducked into the backseat as gracefully as a feather falling to earth. “Hello you.” He smelled smoky-sweet, like those warm nights in front of the fireplace when they’d just gotten home. “How’s your day been?”

“Mighty fine and getting better,” Lance replied, then leaned across the seat to press his whole body against Shiro’s and claim the kiss he’d missed because Shiro got up so blessedly early in the morning. Wrinkles be damned.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith held the phone at arm’s length while his cousin shared with him her opinion on the courtesy of late revelations. When she seemed to be winding down (in volume if nothing else) he put the phone back to his ear.

｢ _Is he good to you?_ ｣

Keith smiled. Though she sometimes showed it in strident ways, Akane cared about him.

｢He’s wonderful.｣

｢ _Then I’m happy for you, and it would be my honor to raise a nuptial cup for you._ ｣

The little spark of happiness kindled into a warm glow. ｢I happily accept your gracious offer.｣

｢ _And I shall perform at your reception as well._ ｣

Uhh... ｢Actually, we were just going to rent one of the event rooms at the hotel where we work and have a quiet ceremony and informal reception. We’ll make it up as we go along.｣ Hunk got a sweet employee discount and they were coming up on the slower season, so it would be easier to book the space sometime in the next few months than if they tried to wait for June.

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, ｢ _We’ll discuss this further when I meet your alpha at your birthday dinner tomorrow._ ｣

Son of a... ｢Akane, I am working tomorrow.｣

｢ _You have to eat sometime. Find a way, or I will come and find you at your work._ ｣

Damn it. She totally would, too, raising a ruckus if Keith wasn’t found and brought before her in a time frame reassuring her that he had not been spirited away to elope, or some shit like that. 

｢Fine, but I have to run it by Hunk first.｣

｢ _Of course. Call your alpha, then call me back. Oh, and Keith?_ ｣

Keith pouted. ｢What?｣ He had been looking forward to the birthday romancing, regardless of whether he succeeded in wearing down Hunk’s chivalrous restraint.

Akane hesitated. ｢ _Prepare yourself for any kind of weather._ ｣

Prepare himself for any kind of weather? Poetic allusions were not like Akane at all. What could she possibly mean by that? She was off the line before Keith could demand an explanation.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The delicate petals and heavy fragrance of fresh roses on the table could not hope to compare to the dewy skin and ginger lily scent of the omega sitting across from Shiro. But of course, he was biased, because this omega was to be his own. He had taken Lance to a French restaurant with romantic ambiance and an excellent pre-theater menu, and now reaped the reward of watching his reaction to a pillow-soft souffle falling open at the glide of his spoon.

Shiro had ordered tournedos au poivre for himself, high-quality beef perfectly seasoned and expertly prepared, but at that moment he would rather sit back with his glass of Bordeaux and watch Lance’s eyes close in bliss as the spoon disappeared between his tastefully rouged lips. When those wide-set blue eyes opened, they twinkled charmingly in the restaurant’s low lighting.

“Aren’t you going to eat too?” Lance sounded amused.

How could he deny him? “Your wish is my command.” 

After a few moments of quietly ecstatic munching, Lance piped up again. “He said yes.”

A warmth suffused Shiro which had nothing to do with the wine, or the cognac in his steak sauce. “I’m glad.” 

After the way they had started things, Shiro wanted to make sure the rest of their courtship went as perfectly as he could arrange it. Lance deserved pomp and circumstance. It was an unexpected benefit that Shiro actually liked Darrell Stoker and would appreciate his company at future family functions, the first of which would be the following night at a dinner that Haruka was no doubt prepping for with her usual focused dedication.

Subtly-enhanced black lashes lowered again as Lance seemed to gather himself, before he said, “He also mentioned having a memorial service.”

“Then we shall have one.” 

It really went without question. Whatever else he might have been (and that was yet to be determined) Charles Lance McClain had been important to a man whose assistance Shiro had recently learned to value, and instrumental in the existence of his beloved. His life should be remembered appropriately to those contributions.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“I’ve rearranged the shifts so that we can have all day off tomorrow.” Hunk had come home after Keith called him, but they were leaving again after a quick meal of fish tacos so that they could cover some of the shifts they’d traded to make Keith’s birthday dinner happen. “We’ll need it.”

While Keith had been talking to Akane, Hunk’s family had also called him at work to invite themselves over to meet his promised omega. So now, both Keith’s and Hunk’s families were coming over to celebrate Keith’s birthday. They would be hosting their first important dinner party and they had less than twenty-four hours to plan it. Keith’s head was spinning.

“I don’t know if I’m going to have enough time to make bone broth,” he fretted as he shredded a head of cabbage. Hunk’s family was coming over. Holy shit. He wanted to impress them with his best cooking but he might have to resort to shortcuts or else make something less rich, and if he made something less rich they might notice because Hunk was an excellent cook so he probably came from a family of excellent cooks.

Hunk took the fish out from under the broiler and set the pan aside. Then he turned and gently took Keith by the shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he said tenderly. “I have a pressure cooker.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Keith sagged in relief.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The premium seats Shiro had procured in the dress circle row might not have the privacy of box seats, but they had an unimpeded view of both the stage and the orchestra pit. The orchestra bit into the overture with such high energy, Shiro could almost imagine he saw the notes flying into the air above their instruments. 

This musical prologue was usually his favorite part of going to see The Marriage of Figaro, with its presto promise of hi-jinks to come, but tonight he had to concede to the lovely omega seated next to him, a red-clothed golden glory in an auditorium decorated in red and gold as if to complement him. Lance had his full and complete attention even after Figaro began to count out the measurements of his marriage bed while Susanna admired her wedding bonnet up on the stage.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith swore to any deity that could overhear his thoughts that if one more well-wishing coworker cracked that naked man birthday joke, he was going to throw his new rule about no fighting right out the hotel window. He’d heard the punch line so many times now he’d forgotten if it was even funny the first time.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Shiro!”

They were walking across the central plaza around a glittering fountain, the Metropolitan Opera House lit up like a cathedral behind them, when the shout stopped them. Lance had grown accustomed to being flagged down by random strangers every time he went out with Shiro. It was usually not a matter of if it would happen, but when. Shiro knew a lot of people in Manhattan, and a lot of those people seemed to have massive crushes on Shiro. 

From the rapturous look on his face as he approached, it would appear that this tall and handsome beta man was no different in that regard. He wore a smart grey blazer over a black mock turtleneck, the pheromones carrying across on the night air smelling pleasantly like charcoal pencils. 

“Curtis.” Shiro smiled genially. “Were you here for the opera too?”

“No, I came to see a revival of The Philadelphia Story.” He waved behind him across another lawn and plaza. Had he spotted Shiro’s hair and run all the way from over there?

“I always thought the wrong couples wound up together at the end of that movie,” Shiro mused.

“Yes I quite agree,” Curtis said eagerly. As he drew even closer into the light shining out from the opera house, Lance could discern brown hair a bit less unruly than his own, brown skin a bit more mocha than his own, and blue eyes as long as his own in a face with a more oblong jawline. “Mike was perfect for Tracey. He was the only one to tell her that he saw her as a human being and that he found that to be glorious.”

“It’s funny you should mention that,” Lance spoke up. He’d learned the best way to deal with Shiro’s admirers was to remind them he was there, because while Shiro was hip to a come hither look, he never seemed to notice when he was being measured for boyfriend material. “I always thought Dexter should have snapped up Miss Imbrie while he had the chance. They were the only ones to notice one another’s worthwhile qualities without having to be prodded for it by another character.”

“I was actually thinking of Margaret and Uncle Willie,” Shiro admitted. “Seth Lord was a perfect heel. His brother took much better care of that family.”

Curtis laughed uncomfortably. “I think Willie was actually supposed to be Margaret’s brother.”

Lance smiled up at Shiro. “I thought he was Seth’s brother too.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Our missions are clear.” Hunk’s eyes were sharp as chocolate diamonds under the Subaru’s dome light. “We’ll each tackle the same list, because it’s better to wind up with too much food than not enough.”

“Agreed.”

Hunk was dropping Keith off in front of the H Mart before heading over to the HK supermarket. They had driven over to Koreatown after work, because at that hour of the night that’s where the only grocery stores that carried everything that they needed were still open.

“I’ll come back over here and pick you up after I’m done, call me if you need any help, love you.”

“Love you too.” Keith gave Hunk a lingering smooch before jumping out onto the concrete.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“He’s into you.” 

Lance leaned his elbows on the pristine tablecloth, the better to appreciate the citrus-sweet scent of lady-of-the-night orchids on their table, and Shiro’s stunning features by candle light. He didn’t think it was a breach of etiquette to put his elbows on the table here. This restaurant where Shiro had taken him for a late night dessert, a tiny little brick-walled Italian place close to their house, was made for swooning across tables at each other.

“He was leaning too far into your space,” was Shiro’s rejoinder, and it sounded a little bit rumbly.

Lance would be flattered by the flare of alpha possessive pique if the alpha in question wasn’t so tragically mistaken. “He was checking out the competition.”

“There is no competition.” Shiro’s eyes gleamed like smoky quartz in the candle’s glow. “Nobody compares to you.”

They were going to need to bring a bucket out of the kitchen to carry Lance back to the car, because he was about to melt into a puddle. “You are the rarest man,” he said. “I’m so lucky to have found you.”

Shiro smiled back at him, a competitive glint coming to the fore. “I’m the lucky one who found you.”

“Ha.” He could go on thinking that was the way it happened if he wanted to, but Lance’s memory of events was superb.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
It was very late when the tangerine orange Subaru finally rolled past the white picket fence to turn into the driveway. They had everything they needed, plus emergency supplies in case of recipe disaster, all loaded in the cargo area behind them. They’d had to fold the back seats down to have enough room for it all without impeding Hunk’s ability to see out of the rear windshield. Now they had to unload the car and put away everything that wasn’t going to be immediately prepped, before stumbling to their beds. They needed to be up early tomorrow if they wanted to get everything ready and still have time to make themselves presentable too.

Hunk pressed the clicker to open the garage door as the car’s headlights swept up the drive. The backwash of light from the headlights and the opening garage revealed a female figure sitting in the Adirondack chair on the front porch. She was slim, and sitting in a familiar slouch with black hair falling over her eyes, and damn it Keith had told her not to just show up early, but wait a minute, did Akane cut off all her hair? He’d never seen her wear it that short before, in a shag that looked a lot like his own hairstyle.

In the seat beside him, Hunk had shifted into a state of alertness. “Keith?”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, “It’s just Akane, I’ll talk to her.” Then he got out of the car before Hunk could work up a counter argument for why he should be the point man.

Hunk zoomed on into the garage, no doubt intending on getting parked ASAP so he could get out and back Keith up the sooner. Keith hopped up the porch steps. The woman rose at his approach, mouth falling open at the sight of him. An unfamiliar expression of awe etched across familiar sharp features, and were those scars on her cheeks? Scars that looked awfully like the one on Keith’s face. What the hell had Akane been doing since he’d seen her last?

That was when the scent of plum blossoms hit him, bringing with it a rush of memories and tightly repressed emotions. This was not Akane. This was an omega he hadn’t seen since he was five years-old. A woman he’d been told was MIA and presumed dead.

“M-mom?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance raised his head sleepily from Shiro’s broad shoulder in the back seat of the car as Kai coasted up to the curb in front of the brownstone. Kai put the vehicle in park and got out to open the passenger’s side door. Shiro unfolded himself from the backseat and then helped Lance out, and then Kai got back into the car to drive around the block and park. Shiro and several of their neighbors shared the lease on a nearby carriage house converted to a parking garage.

Lance snuggled up to Shiro’s side as they slowly walked under the shaded stoop to the hidden entrance into the garden floor foyer, the parlor floor lights glowing out onto the sidewalk from above them. Perhaps Haruka was up there enjoying a cup of tea and a book while waiting and watching for Kai to return. Most of the house would be quiet and lit only by the luminous moon shining through the windows and skylight. Lance enjoyed the thought of ending this long, sweet day by breaking the hush in Shiro’s room.

However, it seemed that fate had other plans because when they entered the house there stood Haruka under the transom leading up to the parlor floor. She had her blue cross-back apron on over her cardigan and t-shirt outfit, which was odd because that outfit was her ‘taking a load off’ outfit, which tracked since Lance and Shiro had been out for much of the day and all of the evening and it was now the dead of night. Her hair was coming out of its updo and she looked as discombobulated as Lance had ever seen her, which come to think of it was never.

“You have guests waiting in the front parlor.” She gave Lance a funny look when she said that. “Would you like me to bring up more coffee?”

Shiro followed her gaze to Lance. Was this a prank? At this point Lance wouldn’t be all that surprised if someone jumped out of hiding with a kazoo and a camera.

“That will be fine Haruka, thank you,” Shiro said finally. “Shall we see who has dropped in?” He offered his arm to Lance. 

Maybe this was a test rather than a prank. Having to find his game face for unexpected guests at unusual hours was part and parcel of what Lance had assumed he was in for as the mate of an important alpha. For Shiro, he would perk the fuck up and be gracious. “Let’s do,” he said, and took Shiro’s arm.

They ascended the stairs. The front parlor’s French doors were both open, the crystal chandelier blazing light over polished parquetry and decorative molding. Their guests were seated in the two settees facing each other across the coffee table in front of the crackling fireplace: a younger woman with abundant brunette curls holding a comforting arm around an older woman’s shoulders, while the lone man reached across the coffee table to place a hand on the older woman’s knee. All three turned their heads at Lance’s entrance, then rushed to their feet, causing Shiro to jet out a puff of protective musk.

All three had familiar faces, older than the last time Lance had seen them, but one of them pulled on his heart more than the others: the older lady, with round shoulders soft for crying on, wavy brown hair that smelled like chamomile tea, and long eyes which now welled with tears like his own.

“¡Mi hijo!” she cried, swaying under the support of her younger daughter.

Lance felt his feet trying to give out under him and leaned heavily against Shiro’s side. Could it really be them? Could she really be here?

“¿Mamá?”


	2. Tempo di Valse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes your mom telling you how your wedding is supposed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everybody who commented and left kudos! Shout outs to Libellule, CrownsofLaurels and PyroInfinite for the comments, and I wanted to answer PyroInfinite's question about an update schedule. I am always hesitant to commit to one because I'm afraid it's like planning a party for Lady Luck and having her son Murphy show up. However, I do try to update these fast since I have it all written and once that's done I'm eager to just get it all out there so I can start on my next idea. I usually don't let it go more than 72 hours if I'm posting a finished fic. It takes some time to put up a chapter though, because the transfer results in formatting errors that I have to pick through to try to catch them all. Still, I think I can update pretty fast this week due to the holidays before I have to start stretching it out a little more. Fingers crossed.
> 
> Also, this chapter is where the fic starts earning the Explicit rating, just FYI. Also also: it so happens that there are different terms for family members in Japanese, according to who is speaking, whether they are speaking about or to the family member, and whose family member it is. I'm mentioning that to avoid confusion, so whenever you see a reference to someone with 'haha' in it in this fic, it is a reference to Kuro's mother Tatsuo. Shiro's mother will be mentioned off and on but not in a context that would use the 'haha' terminology. If that makes sense. Hopefully I didn't make it more confusing.

  
Shiro lay alone in his bed staring at the oil painting over the fireplace directly across the room from him. Haruka had recommended he should place a water element there, so he’d chosen to use paintings of swans in Central Park. This was a popular subject for local artists, with no shortage of renderings to choose from, and Shiro owned several, all beautifully framed to swap out according to season or whim. However, he was especially fond of this one and frequently left it up longer than the others, perhaps due to the artist’s decision to depict magnolia trees in bloom, their pink blossoms cutting a bright swath across the cooler tones of green, blue and grey.

Much as Lance had recently cut a bright swath across Shiro’s coldly cultivated life. Funny how the size of this bed had never bothered him before tonight, when it felt like it was missing something. Or rather, someone. 

Ordinarily at this hour, Lance would be letting himself into the master bedroom, as his own was directly above the garden floor apartment suite and he seemed keen to avoid annoying Haruka. As things now stood, however, Shiro’s bedroom suite was directly below the guest room currently occupied by his future mother-in-law. Well-maintained plasterwork and subflooring ensured as high quality soundproofing as could be achieved without disturbing too many historic elements of the property. There was little chance of Vibiana Adela Álvarez García de Fernández hearing them indulge in premarital sex, were Lance to breeze on in like he usually did, so long as they were quiet about it.

Of course, Lance could be enthusiastically vocal in the throes of ecstasy and they had never bothered to find out how quiet he was actually capable of being, but given his prior occupation, surely he had methods to avail himself of. Maybe Shiro should go to Lance’s bedroom and raise the suggestion, as it were. They still hadn’t tested out the mattress on Lance’s four-poster bed. If Haruka got mad, he’d get her some ear plugs. He heard Bose made some really nice ones. 

Maybe he should do that anyway. Shiro was out of bed, across the room and reaching for the robe hung on the back of his door when it opened and admitted the object of his affectionate and increasingly fevered thoughts.

“Where are you going, mister?” Lance asked, hands on robe-clad hips.

“I was coming to find you,” Shiro admitted.

“Oh.” Lance stepped into Shiro’s body space and put his hands on his bare chest. “Well you found me.” Though, technically Lance had won this round by finding him. “What were you planning on doing with me?”

Lance’s eyes were bright in the light of the waxing gibbous moon flowing in through the terrace door’s window panes. He was just as wound up as Shiro was, maybe even more. They both needed to release the tension that had arrived in a flurry of tears and frantic explanations in Spanish so fast that Shiro could barely follow it.

“I’ve got an idea,” Shiro said, and took Lance by the hand to lead him into the master bathroom.

There was one room in the house that Shiro had been willing to jump through hoops with the Department of Buildings to update and alter, aside from turning his bedroom balcony into a much less stress-inducing three season room. Though it was really more like a two season room since he only liked to go out there while the cherry tree was bushy enough to hide the drop-off.

Shiro noticed Lance taking an interest as he led him past two separate alcoves containing the toilet and a vanity with a sink. He had never been back here before. As many times as Lance had been in the master bedroom since they’d been home, he usually crept back to his own bedroom before the morning, and as for Shiro, there simply was no suave way to introduce a lover to the place where one peed. 

They hadn’t gotten around to debauching the brownstone as thoroughly as they had the penthouse at the Beverly Wilshire which was regrettable, but they could make up for some lost time now. He opened the frosted sliding glass door to bring Lance into the private sanctuary he’d created in his home. Recessed lighting in the ceiling came on as it detected motion, adding to the moonlight already streaming in through the transom windows.

“Wow,” Lance breathed. “How’d you transform an upstairs bathroom into this?”

“I gutted the original master bath and a walk-through closet.” There was no need for a giant closet if the space was well-organized, but there was every need for a giant bathroom, especially if it was done in a style patterned after a kashikiri-buro.

Lance stepped barefoot onto the creamy porcelain tiles, glazed for slip resistance, and wandered over to the steps leading up into the enormous ofuro soaking tub. Taking up the entire wall behind it was a mural painted directly on the tiles. There were no sentō painters in New York City, but there were artists well-versed in trompe-l’oeil. Shiro had commissioned a to-scale still life of the Japanese Garden at Tatton Park. His mother had taken him there when he was a boy and he still treasured the memory of those trips, which represented some of the last times he’d been fortunate enough to spend with her attention focused exclusively on him.

Lance admired the mural for a moment and then looked all around: at the tub caddy holding the scrub towel and bath bucket, and the large rain shower-head across the room with the toiletries on the shower ledge and the teak stools near the wall. A cedar linen cabinet stood in the corner nearest the door, stocked with extra towels and minerals for the bath.

“No shower door?” Lance asked.

“No need,” Shiro replied. The whole room and everything in it was designed to survive getting wet. Even the paint used in the mural was water-resistant.

“So tell me what the rules are for using these facilities, alpha.” Lance sauntered back over to Shiro. “I assume nudity is a requirement.”

“That’s a valid assumption.” 

As soon as Lance was close enough, Shiro reached out and untied the sash holding his dressing gown closed. Lance was gloriously nude underneath, sleek like polished bronze. Shiro grasped the sides of the robe and tugged Lance up against him.

Lance’s lips curved into a smile. “In that case you’ve got too many clothes on.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached down between them and loosed the drawstring that was keeping Shiro’s sleep pants clinging to his hips. The soft fabric puddled to his feet. 

Shiro pulled the dressing gown down Lance’s arms as he leaned in for a kiss. Lance rose up on his toes to meet him, freed arms wrapping around his shoulders to draw him down as their lips met and melded. Lance fell against him and Shiro lifted him in his arms. Lance’s legs locked around his waist as he stepped out of the pool of their discarded garments and carried him over to the shower.

Lance gave him a heavy-lidded appraisal when Shiro set him back on his feet to change the programming on his shower’s digital interface. “We’re not taking a swim in that bath tub?”

“We will,” Shiro promised as he adjusted the temperature and water pressure settings, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, added some ambient music. The only way Lance’s mother was likely to hear them in here was if she decided to use the shower above them. She’d just come off a thirty-three hour bus ride and had looked exhausted, but a little night music would add that extra bit of insurance just in case she had enough energy left to freshen up before bed. “It’s good manners to shower first.”

“It’s lucky for me you’re here to explain the rules.” 

Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro from behind, kissing his neck. Shiro could feel his arousal against the back of his thigh, and smiled. Lance was so damn cheeky, and he loved it. Gradually warming mist and soft chamber music began to fill the space, followed by the deluge when the water reached the preset temperature and poured down over them.

Shiro turned in Lance’s embrace and kissed him again, their bodies forming a line of heat from chest to thigh. When Lance tried to break away to kneel, Shiro held him upright with a soft grip on his upper arms. Then Shiro knelt.

“Oh,” Lance panted as Shiro took his pretty little cock in his mouth. 

Lance tasted like flowers and honey from a combination of his pheromones and the body care products Shiro enjoyed lavishing upon him. In sweet time he also tasted of salt. Shiro curled his fingers around Lance’s hips and his tongue around Lance’s cocklet as he suckled, until Lance released his essence on a gasp. Fluid flooded Shiro’s mouth and began to slick down Lance’s legs. 

Shiro self-indulgently nuzzled the crease where Lance’s sac rested against his thigh. He smelled so damn good. Shiro maneuvered one of Lance’s long legs over his shoulder to lap at the source of the sweet-smelling slick.

Lance cried out, his fingers scrabbling in Shiro’s hair, their pull keeping him grounded as Lance’s scent threatened to overwhelm him. Shiro kept a firm hold on Lance’s lifted thigh and the opposite hip as he continued to lick at his most tender spot, while Lance let out a low, steady stream of curses in several languages. When the curses became incoherent, Shiro stood and kissed Lance’s babbling mouth, then turned him to face the tiled wall.

Lance leaned forward on the tiles, back and shoulders still catching the water. Shiro propped Lance’s left foot up on a shower stool, then, gripping his hips, glided inside. He felt like hot silk, his soft moans as musical to Shiro’s ears as the Mozart coming out of the hidden bathroom speakers. Shiro couldn’t seat himself all the way to the base at this angle, but that was just as well because they didn’t have the leisure to wait for a knot to deflate. He pumped, slowly at first but with a will, until he felt Lance tightening around him and then he picked up the pace.

Lance came on a groan, and Shiro followed soon after, splattering semen from his thighs to the tiled floor as he withdrew. He pulled Lance away from the wall and drew him close to rest against his chest, kissing the primary scent gland high on his neck. Soon he would leave his claim mark there, and Lance would mark him in turn, and they would never have to sleep in separate rooms again if they didn’t want to. For now Shiro would have to be content with just scenting Lance as he purred.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The style of sectional sofa upon which Hunk currently sat with his feet up on the coffee table was called a cuddler. The name was proving apropos. Hunk looked down on his left at the sleeping face of his intended, cuddled close up under his arm and snoring adorably. Then he looked down on his right at the sleeping face of his future mother-in-law, Krolia, who did not strike Hunk as a naturally cuddly person and yet here they were.

Keith and Krolia had a tearful reunion while Hunk put away all the groceries and pretended not to eavesdrop. Krolia had been a Specialist in the Signal Corp on deployment when she’d disappeared. Omegas were forbidden from taking combat roles in the military, but that was no surety against seeing action in a non-combatant role. Krolia had been captured and, with no sightings or demands made by her captors for conditions of her safe return, presumed killed.

Years later, and much to the surprise of her former CO, she’d been handed over along with other hostages during a negotiated release. Due to these unusual circumstances she’d been held for questioning, but the other hostages had vouched for her and after signing an NDA regarding sensitive particulars of her ordeal she’d finally been allowed to return home. The first thing she’d done upon her honorable discharge was try to locate the family she’d been unwillingly separated from for years. 

She’d found firefighter Akira Kogane’s grave site, and that her son had been sent to live with her cousin Akane Manabu, who’d filled her in on the rest. Akane had asked her not to rush right over, wanting to tell Keith in person together, but after waiting this long Krolia couldn’t wait another day, and Hunk honestly couldn’t blame her. God only knew what she’d been through. Keith hadn’t pushed her for details and neither would Hunk.

The emotional conversation had eventually migrated from the kitchen to the living room, where Hunk had started up the gas fireplace and brought in toasty mugs of hōjicha. Which had eventually led to having an omega fall asleep on either shoulder. Hunk had experienced his aunt’s cat falling asleep on him before and this felt similar in that he didn’t have the heart to wake them up, even though parts of his anatomy were falling asleep too.

Might as well get comfier. Hunk carefully reached for the throw blanket tossed over the chaise arm of the couch, and then he spread it across all three of their laps. The omegas snorted, first Keith then Krolia. Hunk could barely contain his coo. But they didn’t wake. 

Hunk snuggled down into the couch cushions. He was just gonna rest his eyelids for a minute. That was the last conscious thought he had before he joined the omegas in slumber.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance felt hedonistic leaning back against his alpha’s chest in the warm, cypress-scented water. The tub was easily large enough for him to stretch out on the other side of it instead of invading Shiro’s space, the water rising high enough to cover his entire body up to the clavicle without having to lie down, but here he was sprawled in the alpha’s lap like a sleepy cat. He lifted one foot into the cascade from the waterfall spout, which had been cleverly installed to create the illusion that the tub was being fed from the water element of the painted garden. The water in the tub was being recirculated to maintain a steady temperature of ‘ooh, that’s so nice.’

“Querido?”

“Hmm?” Shiro’s rumbly hum vibrated pleasantly against Lance’s back.

“Do you think we should get a cat?”

Shiro chuckled and kissed the shell of Lance’s ear. “Honey, if you want a cat we’ll get a cat. I had one when I was a little boy. I seem to recall it was nice having a cat around.”

Lance turned his head to look up at Shiro. “You had a kitty? What was its name?”

Shiro’s smile turned a bit rueful. “His name was Kuro.”

“I’m sorry babe.” Lance hadn’t meant to stir up bad memories. “We don’t need to have a cat.”

“Oh, honey that’s not it.” Shiro squeezed Lance in his arms. “Kuro the cat died in his sleep of old age after living his best nine lives. No, it’s just... now I have a little brother named Kuro.”

“Oh.” Lance blinked. “Well, I guess we won’t be naming the cat Kuro then.”

“As funny as it would be to see the look on his face if we introduced him to a cat named Kuro the Third, I agree that would be for the best.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro’s nose itched, but he didn’t dare scratch it in front of his mother. He sat up straight on his zabuton cushion with his coffee cup gently supported in his left hand. If this had been an honored guest they would be taking tea in Ginga-tei, their villa’s tea house, but this was cousin Shinji, so they were having coffee in the sitting room. Hahaue did not care for Shinji’s company. If he hadn’t let himself into the entrance hall and hollered out cheerfully until their daytime security guard Kazuto couldn’t stand it anymore and went to greet him, they wouldn’t be entertaining him at all.

Personally, Kuro actually liked coffee and didn’t mind skipping the tea ceremony, where he would have been expected to demonstrate his proficiency under Hahaue’s critical gaze. It seemed he could rarely do anything satisfactorily since he’d failed to present as an alpha. He also liked his older beta cousin, with his pine resin scent and impish smile, but he wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual. Shinji seemed to delight in coming over to rattle Hahaue’s cage with news about Shiro, which was the reason for his visit today.

“And you say he met this omega through a nakōdo?” Hahaue made an art out of sounding politely disinterested in matters that actually had his focused attention. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by this turn for the provident. He has seen the passing of his thirtieth year.”

“Shinobu-san says he used an international matchmaker,” Shinji replied. “I don’t know if they share the same priorities as nakōdo, but look at how cute his betrothed is!”

Shinji scrolled through the voluminous photo album on his phone for a suitable picture and then passed the phone across the low table. Hahaue made a show of placing his coffee cup precisely on its saucer before accepting the phone.

“Physical charms may hide an adulterated bloodline,” Hahaue tsked as he viewed the phone’s glowing screen. “How would I even begin to choose a trousseau for the betrothal ceremony? Takashi-kun has not brought this gaijin to tea even once.”

“Shinobu-san says it is a love match. She says they are hosting some of the bride’s family for dinner tonight so that Shiro-san can formally make the request, but they haven’t made any arrangements for a wedding ceremony. She thinks they might elope.”

Hahaue’s peach blossom scent cloyed like fruit rotting on the branch. “He expects me to supply gift money to a bride I have never met or approved?” 

“I doubt he is concerning himself with approvals, Tatsuo-san.” Shinji calmly sipped his coffee. “He is the head of the household now.”

Kuro could practically hear his mother’s teeth grinding at the reminder.

“That may be so, but I am still his stepmother.” Hahaue handed the phone off to Kuro. “I will arrange a travel escort and see this omega for myself.”

Kuro gazed down at a still image of another omega, one with a flower stalk figure more similar to Hahaue’s than to his own. It appeared to be a candid shot, caught mid-laugh as the omega boarded a train. He was not much older than Kuro in appearance, and smiling away without an evident care in the world for his status. Kuro would like to meet his brother’s bride as well, if only to ask what his secret was that enabled him to look so cheerful when destiny had seen fit to mark him as omega.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Lotor!” Honerva looked genuinely pleased as she set her newspaper aside. “So lovely that you’ve joined us for breakfast. Acxa.” She inclined her head slightly to acknowledge her nominal daughter-in-law but did not rise. As the senior alpha at this table and with no omegas present, it was her prerogative to remain seated.

“As if you gave me any choice.” Lotor grumpily slouched chairward, leaving Acxa to pull out her own chair at the carved oak table in the breakfast nook.

“None of that,” Honerva warned him mildly as the parlormaid poured them all coffee. “I’ve something I need to discuss with you.” She aimed a fleeting glance at Acxa, who felt the glow of reflected regard. This plan had been made at Acxa’s initiative, after all. It was nice to be appreciated, even in such a small way.

“What is there to discuss?” Lotor failed to notice the byplay going on in his vicinity, too busy staring moodily into his coffee cup, probably wishing it had bourbon in it instead of cream. “You’ve made a right mess of my life. It’s over.”

“You made your own mess.” Now Honerva was starting to sound a bit testy. 

If Lotor knew what was good for him, he’d stop the backtalk immediately. Acxa wanted to kick him under the table, but he’d probably just kick back.

“Your life is hardly over,” Honerva went on, “and it is past time you resumed living it.”

“And how do you presume I should go about such a Herculean task?” Lotor asked sulkily as he served himself brioche with fruit butter.

“By starting with a manageable one,” Honerva replied. “I’m hosting a little soiree here in the row house, in almost a week. Or rather, you are.”

Lotor scoffed. “Like an omega housewife?”

Acxa clenched her cup of coffee. Hosting parties had been part of her job back in Los Angeles, and she had never felt it to be beneath her. Quite the contrary, it was a challenging role in which many things could go wrong, but if carried off successfully could lead to no small amount of public accolade. 

“Like a man of the world,” Honerva waved off Lotor’s jeering. “Never underestimate the show of gratitude an important guest can bestow on a gracious host.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance snuggled under the duvet, listening intently for the faint padding of feet moving above him. After a thoroughly relaxing early morning with Shiro, he’d sneaked back into his own room for a few hours of shuteye, but now he really should get up. He had guests, and permission to use the espresso machine, and he needed to call Darrell and give him advance notice that Mamá would be at dinner.

When Darrell had arranged for Lance’s records to be retrieved from Cuba, it had caused a chain reaction. Word had gotten to Mamá through the grapevine and a family meeting soon followed, during which it came out that Veronica had been in talks with a group of balseros because her wife’s brother in Miami had been trying for months to convince them to make the trip. 

The whole family decided to go. Mima and Pipo had both passed on years before. There was not much left to tie them to Varadero but their jobs and each other, so if some of them left, they decided that all of them would, and with the resources the rest of the family brought to the table, the group Veronica had been negotiating with was able to accelerate the launch date. Luis didn’t feel safe taking his children on the chug so he’d gone the slow but legal route and presently had his family in a guest house in Georgetown, Guyana. Shiro had promised to book them a hotel suite closer to the U.S. embassy and see if he could do anything to expedite their immigrant visas. 

When Mamá got Lance’s address from the private investigator in Miami, she’d decided she had to get to New York straight away and could not be persuaded otherwise, so Marco and Rachel had agreed to accompany her. Veronica had stayed behind in Miami to get settled in with her in-laws, but made them promise to tell her when and where to arrive for the wedding. Lance pulled the eyelet lace duvet over his head. His mother wanted to have a wedding. 

This had not been in his initial plans. Lance’s ideal scenario was to elope, and maybe have a fabulously self-indulgent staycation honeymoon, but now Mamá was involved and there was to be a wedding. Vibiana had some pretty firm notions about weddings. She would try to put Lance in a frock frillier than the guest bedding still adorning his four-poster bed, he just knew it. Lord have mercy on his ex-hooker soul. 

He still hadn’t told her that he used to be an omega of the evening, either. He wondered if she had figured it out herself. There were enough context clues for someone who knew him as well as she did to read. Shiro seemed to think it wouldn’t matter to her because she was his mother, but Shiro’s perspective was colored by a mother who from all accounts Lance had heard thus far had been kind and sweet. Lance’s mother was kind, but he didn’t think anyone would ever dare call her sweet to her face.

And now that mettlesome woman was going to try to share a kitchen with Haruka. She might already be down there looking for the fruit and bread. Fresh energy surged through Lance as he leaped out of bed. There was no time to sort out the overly fussy bedding. Lance tossed the comforter over the rumpled sheets and headed into the bathroom to throw water on his face and complete his toilette.

This was the sort of bathroom that made a body want to use words like ‘toilette’ with the extra letters. Lance loved the claw-foot tub and the full-sized vanity, but he was less fond of the actual commode. In form it was beautiful to look at, the porcelain gussied up with ornamental appliques and enameled blue flowers like fine china. In function it was as plain as a public restroom toilet. He still couldn’t believe Shiro had been hiding the Magic Toilet (TM) in his bathroom this whole time, and he was an alpha. 

“When I had that guest room refurbished I was only thinking of making the fixtures match the architecture. I had no idea any future mate of mine would ever be staying in it. I’ll special order a washlet for your bathroom, I promise.”

Shiro thought it was funny, but Lance was going to see that promise honored, even if it meant he had to resort to nagging.

Great Googly Moogly, he was turning into his mother.

Lance threw on jeans and a t-shirt and hustled downstairs to try to head off Kitchenpocalypse: Battle For The Stove.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith found himself in the dreamlike position of having his long-lost mother help him adapt her own recipe for bone broth to a pressure cooker. The pork neck bones and chicken wings had been parboiled and washed and now they were covering them with water in the pressure cooker along with the aromatics, which they had chopped side by side at the kitchen’s butcher block counter. Her hands were so similar to his own, the shape, the skin tone, even the cutting technique, it was a little surreal.

This must be why Dad had resisted pressure to install a headstone in Evergreen and rarely visited the one that was finally put up in Los Angeles National Cemetery. Eventually he started taking Keith to bring kikyō flowers at every equinox, but he never offered incense or stories. “She’s not in there, son,” was all he would say whenever Keith asked why. He must have known she was alive through the bondmark he left on her, but unable to prove it because he’d been in the service himself when they’d married, and the rule against identifying marks that could be seen in uniform applied to claim marks, at least where alphas and betas were concerned. It must have been achingly frustrating not to be believed, which was perhaps the reason Akira had not shared his certainty of knowledge with his son.

Keith looked up from his ruminations and over to the tile counter next to the range where Hunk had started prepping toppings, the sight of him there a grounding force. They were planning on finishing the pork belly, tare and black garlic oil together later, but while Keith and his mother (his _mother_ ) worked on the broth, Hunk was soft boiling eggs to marinate, and slicing up another topping that Keith didn’t usually include with this recipe.

_“Linguiça?”_

_“Yeah, I know there’s already plenty of pork between the broth and the chashu, but my parents will love it, trust me.”_

Keith was cool with it. Every family put their own touch on passed-down recipes. This could be theirs. As if aware of the scrutiny, Hunk looked up from what he was doing, met Keith’s eyes and smiled that sweet smile of his. Keith felt an answering smile stealing across his face even as he became aware that his mother was observing this unspoken exchange.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Keith said, and hustled out of the kitchen before Hunk could beat him to the punch. He was pretty sure it was too early for Hunk’s family to show up, but it wasn’t too early for Akane.

Krolia had spent the night before last at Akane’s apartment in Keith’s old bedroom, where she’d be staying for the indefinite future. Those two didn’t need to worry about breaking any civil laws because Krolia and Akane were first cousins.

Keith peeked out the beveled glass in the front door. A redhead in a delivery t-shirt stood on the porch with two bakery boxes stacked in her arms. That’s right, it was cupcake day! With a big grin, Keith opened the door and accepted the delivery. He tipped the girl from his own cash tips earned the previous night and got a cheerful “Happy Birthday!” before he was alone with the boxes of chocolate nirvana.

Surely nobody would give him crap if he scarfed down one of his own birthday cupcakes right away? One of them would just be missing the B from BDAY. Wait, first he needed to call Lance and thank him, and maybe scream together for a minute about his mom showing up. Lance was as much of a night owl as Keith was, but surely even his decadent ass was out of bed by now.

Keith cut through the dining room and tiptoed past the kitchen, sneaking into his bedroom with his precious bundle. He pulled down the drop-front on the butler’s desk so he could set down the cupcakes and snatch one out of the top box, and then he took his phone out of the charger to call Lance.

Lance picked up immediately. He looked wide awake and a little bit harried, but he smiled ear to ear when he saw Keith in the video chat window.

_“Hey, you got the cupcakes!”_

“Yef.” Keith licked cream cheese icing off his lips. “Yes I did, thanks, dude!”

_“You’re welcome, felicidades!”_

Keith decided to just spill the beans, no preamble. “Lance, my mom showed up at the house last night.” Leading into a revelation was just its own unique form of torture in Keith’s opinion.

Lance eyes turned huge. _“She’s alive? Dude that’s awesome!”_ Something about Keith’s expression must have given away his overwhelm. _“Is it awesome?”_

“It is awesome.” Keith had been in such a state of sustained astonishment that he hadn’t been able to settle on a single emotion to describe how he felt. But it was awesome, wasn’t it? In spite of everything that had passed in the time between, this was awesome, in the sense that it inspired awe. He hoped Lance wasn’t expecting him to be able to explain it any better than that.

_“Lance!”_ Haruka’s face appeared over Lance’s shoulder, and she looked even more harried than Lance did, her side bangs fluffing out like mutton chops. _“Your mother is driving me crazy!”_ She spotted Keith on the video chat and found a smile for him. _“Hi Keith, omedetou! How old are you?’_

“Thanks Haruka, I’m twenty-one.” Finally. “Wait, your mom showed up too?”

_“Yeah,”_ Lance said, _“and not just my mom either.”_

Behind Lance, a guy who looked a lot like him entered and exited the frame all the while singing in a mellow tenor. _♪“No, que no, que no, quisiera verte, no, que no, que no” ♪_

Lance frowned. _“Great, now I’m gonna be stuck on that song all day.”_

_“Lance, your mother!”_ Haruka looked ready to start ripping out hair, not necessarily her own. _“I have to continue prepping dinner for tonight and she is making croquettes with the bread crumbs I need for the crab cakes!”_

_“All right, Haruka,”_ Lance sighed, _“I will get her out of your hair for the rest of the day. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’m about to make for you.”_

“I don’t know how much of a sacrifice you’re making,” Keith cut in, “since you’re not the one doing any cooking.”

_“No, Keith,”_ Lance replied drily, _“I’m just the one about to be commandeered into shopping for a wedding frock that I might actually have to wear in front of everyone I know.”_

“I thought you were gonna elope?”

_“Yeah that’s what I thought too, but Mamá has a difference of opinion on the matter.”_

Keith started counting his blessings that his mom seemed comparatively chill about his upcoming nuptials. “You guys are still coming to my wedding though, right?”

_“You know it.”_

Haruka put a hand on her chest, clearly touched. _“I would be honored to attend your wedding banquet. When we receive the invitation, Kai and I will send back our reply card at once!”_

Keith let the banquet part of that comment slide. She probably didn’t mean anything in particular by it. Haruka could be very formal in her vocabulary choices sometimes (except with Lance, for some reason). “That’s great! I can’t wait to see everybody. Hunk’s looking forward to it too.”

_“How’s the big guy doing?”_ Lance asked.

“Real well, right now he’s busy cooking or I’d bring him on the line.” Speaking of which. “I’d better get back to it, both our families are coming over for dinner tonight.” They needed all hands on deck for the flavor and presentation to live up to Keith’s expectations.

He said his goodbyes and was smiling when he put the phone back in the charger. He turned around, still smiling, and startled at the sight of both Hunk and Krolia peeking in the door he’d left open.

“Lance said hi,” reflexively came out of his mouth.

Hunk burst out laughing. Krolia just looked curious, and now Keith wondered exactly how much Akane had told her about his life in the omega hostel. He sheepishly took the opened box off the butler’s desk. 

“So, um, he sent two dozen cupcakes.” Which were now a dozen and eleven. “I figure we can save one box for dessert, and polish off the other while we’re cooking?” It was Keith’s birthday, right? And his birthday suit plan had been thwarted, so he’d pad his badonk if he wanted to.

“Sounds great to me,” Hunk said, so that’s exactly what they did.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Will you still love me if I walk down the aisle in giant puff sleeves?”

Shiro laughed, but Lance was being perfectly serious. He’d seen pictures of his mother’s wedding dress. It had bubble sleeves and a shit-ton of organza ruffles on the skirt, and if Pipo and Mima had been able to acquire beads it would have been even more embellished. Since money had been an object for his mother but was not for him, that left no guarantee that she wouldn’t want to look at frocks with even more ornamentation than that. 

Lance and Shiro stood together in the parlor floor foyer waiting for Kai to bring the car around. He was going to drop Shiro off at work and then return for Lance and his family to ferry them on a clothes shopping expedition. Vibiana, Rachel and Marco had all arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a little bit of cash that Veronica’s in-laws had pooled together before seeing them off on the bus. Shiro had called ahead to the stores where he had credit accounts to make sure they were expected, but Lance had already been inside most of the places they planned to visit so he wasn’t expecting any trouble.

At least, not until they visited the bridal shop. Lance had promised to keep Mamá busy, but he made no promises as to how he’d react to whatever fluffly monstrosity she tried to throw over his head.

“Honey, I’ll love you whatever you’re wearing.” Shiro dropped a kiss on his lips. “The clothes only have to be there because of indecency laws.”

Lance smirked into another kiss. “So, what I’m hearing is that you wouldn’t be opposed to having a wedding at a nudist beach?”

“I love you, but I’m also developing a healthy respect for your mother.”

Lance couldn’t really blame him for that, ‘cause same.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Matt set his carry-on bag down in their little slice of heaven, a family suite in the lodging on Chièvres Air Base. It had a bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchenette, and if he turned a slow circle in the kitchenette with the bedroom and bathroom doors flung open, he could see easily and completely into every single room. After eleven-plus hours of plane travel with his body insisting it was ‘why am I awake’ o’clock in the morning when the local clock said it was afternoon, Matt was ready to drop into their generously pillowed bed and conk out.

“We don’t have to be anywhere else today, do we?”

Ryan, cutting a magnificent figure in service dress blue, turned from his inspection of the living room window locks at the sound of his spouse’s cranky tones. Jet lag never marred his stunning good looks, but Matt knew he was tired too. His yellow pine scent had gone thin and slightly astringent, like lemon juice. Unable to put a return claim bite on him due to uniform regs, Matt had been compensating by focusing on his ability to read Ryan by scent.

“There is a semi-formal dining-out we’ve been invited to attend tomorrow night,” Ryan said, which meant they were expected despite being added to the guest list at the last minute, “but tonight we’re free to relax.”

Hallelujah. Matt flung himself into Ryan’s arms and kissed him soundly on the lips. “I’ll pick us up something for dinner at the commissary but I need a nap first.”

Ryan held him in a secure embrace, green eyes shining contentedly. “Let’s call the folks back home and let them know we made it here safely, and then we’ll both get that nap.” His pheromones took on a warm note of butterscotch that had Matt purring.

“Sir, yes sir.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance and his family had spent the better part of the day productively exploring the vast and storied department stores along 5th Avenue and now it was time for merienda. Or, as they called it around these parts, afternoon tea. The department store where they had just finished a successful round of shopping had a restaurant with fabulous views of Central Park out of its upper storey windows. Lance enjoyed the sight of his family enjoying themselves, Marco looking relaxed and very smart in a blue sport coat, and Rachel looking comfortable in body-hugging thermal knits that were attracting a lot of admiring glances to the point where Mamá threatened to buy her a parka to wear over her new clothes.

It was Mamá herself that Lance felt most gratified about, despite her grumping over Rachel’s athleisure wardrobe. She looked matronly stylish in her new flowy tunic blouse, the stress lines around her eyes easing as the lovely day progressed. It gladdened Lance’s heart to see her savoring as many of the little sandwiches, scones and petit fours as she wanted, and which she hadn’t needed to prepare with her own hands first. As steam from tea and tisane wafted soothing smells that blended with the comforting scents of his family, Lance played with the idea of planning a spa day together with them.

Tea time chatter allowed the family to catch up on each other’s lives, to a point. Lance still wasn’t sure how to bring up the salacious nature of his recent employment history, which he was becoming more and more suspicious that his mother already knew about. Rachel had been granted admittance into the University of Matanzas to pursue studies in Linguistics, and now she was hoping to continue her education but switch her focus to Literature. Marco had continued to work as an outdoors guide and hoped to be able to stay in a profession where he could work with horses. Mamá had been promoted to head housekeeper at the resort and refused to take any congratulations for it now that she’d left it behind.

“And what of you, Lancito?” she asked as she poured herself another cup of chamomile tea, its herbal-sweet vapor seeming to strengthen Vibiana’s own scent.

“I’m going to cosmetology school.” Lance had practiced this answer in the mirror before they left, making sure to sound extra firm and sure of himself. “I mean, I will be going to cosmetology school.” And he was already stumbling off the damn script. “I’m taking a seminar later this week, and after that I’ll be able to start going full-time.”

“Full-time?” Vibiana softly set her teacup down. “Does your alpha support your plans?”

“He does, Mamá,” Lance said earnestly. Shiro had given his full blessings, along with some celebratory nookie.

“You don’t think he might prefer for you to take care of his house?” Vibiana asked. 

Rachel and Marco, both betas and therefore relatively free from the traditional obligations she was indirectly referencing, suddenly became very interested in adding more sugar to their tea.

“I don’t imagine he thinks about it that much, to tell you the truth,” Lance replied. They’d had a long midnight conversation shortly after they’d arrived together in New York, about Shiro’s retainers, his family’s customs, and the duties involved with maintaining an honorable reputation. Long story short: there was just no way Lance could aspire to the institution of being a homemaker unless Shiro somehow experienced a setback severe enough to lose his position. If that happened then Lance would take up the role with determined vigor, but he was honestly happy with the current setup, temperamental housekeeper and all. “Shiro has Haruka to take care of the house, and it’s a family deal. So basically I can become an omega who lunches or I can pursue a career.” 

Lance had nothing against supporting the economy by being a consumer – case in point, their present activities – he just would rather be an active participant than passive, if he had the choice. Perhaps that was not a very conventional attitude for an omega to have, but when had he ever been such?

“It’s not like hermanito hasn’t worked before, right?” Marco said cheerfully. “He was always such a hard worker, and clever. He’s got initiative!”

Marco was probably thinking of that time Lance had stitched up an old tarp to haul manure so he wouldn’t have to push the wheelbarrow up that bumpy hill past the stables anymore, risking a clod of horse poop bouncing out of the wheelbarrow with every rut the wheels hit; but from the glint in her eye that wasn’t what his mamá was thinking.

“He certainly is a clever one.” Vibiana sipped her tea. “How were you able to support yourself before Shiro came along, mijo?”

“Share please!” Rachel innocently perked up. “Maybe I could get the same job!”

Vibiana snorted some tea up the wrong pipe.

“Yeah... I don’t know if you want to do that,” Lance hedged. 

“Do what, though?” Rachel frowned as she added cream to her tea. “What’s so bad that I wouldn’t want to do it?”

“Belly dancing in a bar,” was what came out of his mouth, and it was technically true, if much more short-lived than the other stuff.

“Belly dancing.” Rachel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“In a bar?” Vibiana looked like she might want to throw a parka over her youngest son instead of her youngest daughter.

“It really doesn’t sound that bad to me,” Marco put in his two cents.

“It’s not about feeling your connection to the earth if you’re working in the kind of place I was,” Lance warned his sister. “Most of the time it’s about breathing secondhand smoke while the bar manager tries to talk your fee down again after telling you there’s no hip in your shimmies.” That old nitpicker. 

“I never had that problem in class,” Rachel mused. Puberty had been so kind to her it was practically her fairy godmother, while she’d remained oblivious to its effects with her nose in a book.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you two take that class,” Vibiana groused, “if it leads to both of you wanting to dance in bars.”

“Well, nobody’s dancing for money in any bars now,” Lance rushed to reassure her. Her dander was up and he hadn’t even told her about the stripper gig yet, much less the streetwalking.

“That’s right, the only money dance in your future will be the one at your wedding,” Marco winked.

“Aw, you guys.” Lance felt a lump in his throat at the thought of his family wanting to do this for him, even though he and Shiro really didn’t need any help paying for a honeymoon. “I don’t know what my wedding is even going to look like yet. Shiro’s Japanese, you know, he might want to incorporate some of those wedding traditions.”

Haruka had rhapsodized about those traditions at some length after they hung up with Keith. Lance wondered if Keith had any idea how many elaborate costume changes he might have in store for him. If Haruka hadn’t been exaggerating, it made the back-to-back routines at the Purple Imperial seem sedately paced by comparison.

“I know that your bridal frock will be lavish,” Vibiana promised firmly, “if I have to see to it myself.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“What do you mean five different outfits?” Keith laid out the koa wood chopsticks on their chopstick rests as Akane set down vibrant red trays at each place setting. They’d had to pull out the leaf on the table and bring in the extra chairs from the garage to ensure enough seats for everybody who was coming.

“You want to attract every possible blessing, don’t you?” was Akane’s reply. 

True to Keith’s prediction, she’d shown up a couple of hours early to give Keith a Daruma wishing doll for his birthday and grill Hunk on his intentions. After declaring that Hunk was a stand up guy her cinnamon scent had banked from pungent heat to spicy-sweet, then she’d volunteered herself to help set the table while simultaneously quizzing Keith on his bridal know-how. Because an alpha prime whose all-time favorite love song was “Little Red Corvette” was such an expert on the subject.

“I feel plenty blessed already.” 

Keith laid down the last set of chopsticks on its rest and turned to go back to the kitchen for the small plates, and met his mother coming out carrying a stack of large red bowls with enameled dragons flying around the inner rims.

“Your father and I had a no-frills wedding,” Krolia said.

“See?” Keith aimed over his shoulder at Akane as he passed Krolia in the doorway.

“It was mostly because we did it on the spur of the moment without anyone to help us,” Krolia went on, which stopped Keith where he stood. “I want to help you have the best wedding possible.”

Oh, man. Keith did not want to be a quick change artist for his whole wedding day, but he wasn’t sure if he could say no in the face of his mother’s yearning to make up for lost time.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance examined his reflection in the large leaning mirror of the bridal shop’s opulent dressing room. After trying on six progressively sillier frocks, he’d finally won his mother over to looking at a bridal jumpsuit. It was a hollow victory.

“I look like I have the fetlocks of a draft horse.”

The talcum white jumpsuit was a flared-leg affair bristling with Chantilly lace. The ribbon-bedecked flats he’d been wearing during the entire try-on session disappeared under the wide hems, which was a desirable effect with the frocks but not so much with a jumpsuit.

“Mijo, come out and let us see it.”

Lance flapped his arms in defeat and exited the dressing room. He stepped out onto the cut pile carpet lining the runway, where brides could parade in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors and check out the duds from all angles. His mother and sister were waiting for him in wingback chairs set at the perfect angle to watch him strut back and forth.

“Ay, Dios mío,” Vibiana clucked. “I had hoped the flared legs would swing like a skirt, but it just makes you look like you have foot feathers.”

“I think it looks like lingerie,” was Rachel’s opinion. “Maybe you should get that and save it for the wedding night.”

Nope, Lance had plans for the wedding night that did not involve clothes in any way, shape or form. That’s assuming he ever made it to the ceremony.

“How are we doing?” Mirana, the consultant who had been helping them select try-ons, stepped around the corner with Marco walking beside her. The buxom Titian-haired beta was very attractive, knew it, and seemed to be taking Marco’s flirty admiration as simply her due.

“Might you have something he could try on in satin, with a full skirt?” 

“Mamá!”

“Mijo we have tried it your way, now let’s give my way an honest chance.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped. He had been resisting her tastes the whole time, or trying to, so he would give in and try on this one frock without complaining. It just damn well better not have giant puff sleeves.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro pushed back from his L-shaped desk and rose from his high-backed chair as soon as he got the text that Kai had brought the car and was waiting outside. Just a month ago he would have given serious consideration to the prospect of getting his dinner from the automat and asking Kai to come back in a few more hours. Now he had Lance’s company to look forward to, as well as a meal prepared by the unremittingly competent Haruka. Not even the chaos of a houseful of in-laws could ruffle his feathers.

He left his office, rolling briefcase in tow, and entered the vestibule where he found his executive secretary Omnia rising from her own desk and shrugging into her olive green peacoat. His intern Daniel had clocked off an hour before. Shiro and Omnia left the office suite together and locked up behind them.

“Have a good night, sir,” the beta said as they parted ways in the elevator foyer. Omnia liked to take the stairs to stay in shape.

“You as well, Omnia,” Shiro replied as the elevator doors closed in front of him. He had a gym membership for staying in shape, which he’d been neglecting lately in favor of a more fun type of workout at home. 

Maybe he ought to see about getting Lance registered at his gym. Then they could go together. The gym had an indoor pool. Shiro’s mind immediately went to fantasy land. Lance probably looked great in swimwear.

The elevator opened on the marble-floored lobby and Shiro strode out, nodding a ‘good evening’ to the security guard as he exited through the revolving doors and jogged down the concrete steps to the street. True to his word, Kai had the Rolls-Royce idling at the curb. As Shiro approached, Kai exited the driver’s seat and held open the passenger door.

“Did Lance and his family make it home without incident?” Shiro asked as he collapsed the handle of his briefcase and set it down on the car seat.

“They are still at the bridal shop,” was Kai’s unexpected reply.

Shiro paused in the opened car door. “Still?”

“Yes sir.” Kai had that carefully smoothed out expression that usually meant something was on his mind. “Would you like to pick them up on the way home, sir?”

The Rolls-Royce had an expansive interior, but with six adults they would feel the squeeze. However, they might wind up squeezed for time if Shiro insisted on being driven home first. Besides, Kai would probably not have made the suggestion without a good reason.

“Let’s do that.”

“Very good sir.”

Shiro settled into the backseat. The drive to the Garment District was going to take twenty minutes at the very least, up to triple that if they ran into bad traffic. He could lower the tray table and turn on the LCD screen to watch the news. He smiled at the sight of the mirror affixed to the back of one of the tray tables, a reminder that his life had grown fulsome. Or he could lower the partition and pick Kai’s brain.  
  
Shiro lowered the partition. “Kai?”

“Yes sir?” Kai kept his eyes on the road but Shiro did not doubt that he had the man’s attention.

“What are your impressions of my future in-laws?” 

Given explicit permission to share his counsel, Kai took a moment to ponder. Shiro was reasonably sure that he had already formed his opinions and that what he was now considering was how best to express them.

“They seem like honest people who care for your betrothed’s welfare,” Kai finally said. “They are very affectionate toward him, each in their way. The sister is highly intelligent and bold like Lansu-san but lacks his awareness of certain kinds of danger.” She might require someone to quietly look out for her until she found her feet, was what Kai was insinuating. “The brother is friendly and has a good sense of humor. He possesses initiative.” Shiro had gotten the same impression of Marco and figured he only needed seed money and introductions to help him get a start on whatever he chose to do. “The mother...” Here Kai paused for an uncomfortably long moment.

Shiro felt his first moment of trepidation regarding this whole arrangement. “Yes?”

“She has not truly let go of her omega child,” Kai finally said. “It is as if he had never left her home, in spite of the years apart. Convincing her that he is a capable adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions may present a challenge.”

“Then we shall rise to meet it.” Shiro may have required a proverbial kick in the pants to see how much he needed Lance in his life, but now that his vision was clear nothing was going to cloud it again. Not even a formidable mother-in-law. “What of their talents? Any future business leaders or legal minds among them?”

When Shiro had fired Lotor as his lawyer, he’d lost access to the resources of the Manigford Law Group along with him. He didn’t regret the decision, but in the interim he’d come to realize that his enterprise had outgrown his predilection for hiring contract staff to supplement the very tight ship he ran with his core staff. He was going to need to hire more permanent staff soon, and he was not opposed to keeping it in the family if feasible. He was already considering offering a position to Darrell Stoker, who freelanced as an IT specialist but also showed a great deal of promise as a private investigator. He was even willing to let Stoker make up his own job title and work from wherever he wanted, but there never seemed to be an appropriate moment to bring it up with the man.

Maybe tonight after dinner, if all went well.

“Perhaps,” Kai said, and then went on to outlay his observations that Rachel had the brains and focus to make an excellent researcher if her curiosity could be piqued, while Marco’s career interests lay in a less-compatible equine direction. Then Kai had shocked the hell out of him by suggesting he consider finding a place for Vibiana.

“Wouldn’t she prefer to retire in comfort?” Shiro was willing to personally see to her comfort. Preferably with her elder daughter in Miami.

“She has an active mind and a strong constitution,” Kai replied. “She also has management experience and a temperament for discretion.”

Well, those qualifications were nothing to sneeze at. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Kai accepted this answer with perfect equanimity as he nestled the Rolls-Royce into on-street parking. They had arrived on a cross street close to the bridal shop. Shiro walked briskly to the limestone facade of the high-rise in which the bridal shop was located, where the lobby attendant directed him to the elevator and the correct floor.

Shiro stepped into an entry salon with a curved reception desk and high gloss vinyl flooring littered with tuffets. Immediately to his left stood a pair of tall glass doors flanked by display cases filled with courting necklaces. He could see racks of frothy dresses and part of a red carpet through the closed glass doors. Dead ahead of him, past the reception area, was a left-turning hallway guarded by mannequins swathed in fabric like cake frosting. A statuesque woman in a pink dress passed between the frosted guardians, saw Shiro standing there, and pulled herself even taller as she smiled in professional welcome.

“Good evening sir! Are you in need of a courting necklace?”

“No, thank you.” Shiro was glad he had selected Lance’s courting necklace with care, even if he hadn’t realized that’s what he was doing at the time. “I’m just looking for my omega, he came in this afternoon with his family.”

“Hola, Shiro.” Shiro turned his head and saw Marco leaning out of the glass doors, holding one open. “Am I ever glad to see you, Lance is this way.”

“Oh!” The woman in pink looked consternated as she realized who Shiro must be. “He’s trying on a frock, maybe you’d like to wait here? I can bring you refreshments!”

“It’s okay,” Marco insisted, “he won’t be mad if Shiro sees this one. Come on back dude.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said as he accepted Marco’s offer and passed him through the opened door.

“Don’t mention it,” Marco replied. “I wouldn’t mind chatting up Mirana until she closes the shop, but I think poor Lancito has tried on all the frocks he can take.”

Shiro followed Marco down the carpeted, mirrored hall towards Rachel and Vibiana, who appeared to be hovering just outside the partially open door of a dressing room. Lance’s peevish voice carried out from within that room.

“I look like a merenguito!”

“Stop being so melodramatic,” Vibiana chided him. She turned her head at Shiro’s approach. “It’s bad luck to see the frock before the wedding.”

“Mamá,” Marco said, and now he was behind Shiro so he couldn’t see his face, but something in it must have pacified his mother because she moved aside for Shiro and drew Rachel back with her.

Shiro placed a hand on the dressing room’s rosette door knob to swing the door closed behind him as he quietly went in. Settled before him like a cumulonimbus cloud was a fluff ball of material from which two brown arms emerged to lean akimbo on the general vicinity of knees, although Shiro couldn’t be certain of the knee placement beyond a shadow of a doubt. There was a lot of fabric foaming about in a relatively small amount of space. The hands attached to those brown arms were wrapped in lace gloves trimmed with ruffles.

“I’m not coming out.” Lance’s voice emerged from within the fluff ball, his breath puffing out some of the gauzier material near the top. He was wearing a tulle blusher veil.

Shiro leaned forward, reached down and gently lifted the veil. There was Lance, pouting ferociously. Shiro tried to prune back the smile that wanted to bloom on his face. As Lance looked back at him, his own scowl started to twitch.

“It’s not funny,” Lance said.

“No, of course not,” Shiro replied. “It’s deadly serious.”

“Shiro, I mean it,” Lance whined. “Look at me! Giant puff sleeves!”

Shiro pushed more of the veil back away from Lance’s face. Sure enough, the sleeves erupting from the satin shoulders of the frock were so puffy they touched his earlobes. Shiro knelt before him.

“Lance, I made you a promise.” He took Lance’s lace-encrusted hands. He would have given him a hug, but he wasn’t sure where his waist was in there. “In sickness, health and puffy sleeves.”

Lance laughed, the big goofy laugh Shiro loved. “In that case, I accept your solemn vow, but I’m still not wearing this frock out of here.” 

“Fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially Kuro was going to be more of a brat, but then he started being adorable and I just had to go with that. Please love my sweet bb Kuro.


	3. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale of two dinner parties, in which some beautiful partnerships are formalized, and frocks are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos, guys, you're the best!

“He’s not wearing a courting necklace.”

The tone had been mild, but the look in Alana Garrett’s big brown eyes was anything but.

“I know, Mom.” Hunk handed his mother the pot of freshly-brewed tea by its top handle to take into the dining room. “We talked about this already. Keith doesn’t want a necklace.”

Keith had strong feelings about advertising his primary scent glands to strangers, claimed or not, and Hunk respected those feelings. It was part of the reason why Keith wore his hair so long and shaggy, and whenever he put his hair in one those little ponytails it was a sign that he was feeling very relaxed. Currently Keith was ponytail-free and being distracted in the living room by Hunk’s niece and nephew while Hunk’s mother cornered him in the kitchen under the pretense of helping him carry the beverages to the table.

“Are you sure he wasn’t just being coy?” Alana traced the gold and silver inlay on the damascene panel resting against the hollow of her throat with her free hand as she spoke.

Most omegas of Hunk’s acquaintance, his mother included, only wore the courting necklace for special occasions, as they tended to be expensive pieces of jewelry and attractive targets for muggers. It said something that Alana was wearing hers tonight, and Hunk felt the approval inherent in it despite their current difference of opinion over whether Keith ought to have one too.

“Mom.” Hunk used a kitchen towel to lift the ceramic flask of honjozo sake, which his family had brought over as a gift, out of a pot of heated water. “You’ve met him in person now. Does he strike you as being coy?”

Alana’s lips lifted in the half-smile that she’d passed on to her son and daughter. “No, he’s very direct. When is the wedding?”

Hunk laughed. Alana wasn’t coy either. The whole family knew that she had greatly missed the company of a fellow omegas at family functions since her sister Leia had accepted a teaching post at an all-omega boarding school in Arizona. 

Alana had married an alpha and raised two more, and then Hunk’s big sister Hina had decided she was ready for children before there was any potential mate in the picture, so she’d had two on her own and both of them had presented early as betas. Alana never complained, but Hunk was pretty sure she missed the company of others who understood the unique experiences of being omega. She had omega friends, but she was often the only omega present anymore at family get-togethers like holidays and birthdays.

Her plumeria scent was so sweet tonight it was giving Hunk a sugar rush.

“It’s looking like our best shot at being able to rent the Royal Suite is coming up in just a few months, so maybe pretty soon.” Fingers crossed.

“The Royal Suite?” Alana frowned. “Are you sure that’s going to be big enough?”

“Big enough for what, Mom?” Hunk took the sake out of the kitchen and into the dining room while his mother followed with the hot tea. “The Royal Suite has seating capacity for several dozen people, that should be plenty of room.”

Krolia and Akane were already in the dining room, setting out the condiment bottles and filling dipping dishes with black garlic oil.

“How do you expect to fit all of your coworkers in there?” Akane asked. “I know you have more than a few dozen subordinates in that hotel. They look up to you. You set an example.”

“Well, I– ” Who in the what and how had they wound up at this point in the conversation? “A lot of them are actually going to be working, you know?” They couldn’t close down the whole hotel for their wedding, that was beyond ridiculous.

“It’s the off season, you’ll want a venue that will allow them to easily slip in and visit between shifts.” Alana jumped on the bandwagon with both feet. “You’re going to need the ballroom.”

Say what. “Mom, the ballroom is enormous.”

“Does it have dressing rooms?” Krolia asked hopefully. “Keith is going to need a dressing room to change his colors.”

“It does,” Alana said.

“And a stage for the dancers to perform?” Akane asked.

When had dance performances become a thing in this?

“Yes it has a stage.”

Maybe Hunk should hire his mother to do the hotel’s PR, because she obviously knew a lot about the facilities and was willing to promote them.

“Excuse me for a moment, ladies.” 

Hunk kept it together as he hustled over into the living room. Keith, Manny and Lena looked up from the game of dominoes they’d started on the coffee table. Hunk rounded the cuddle couch to face his fiancé. 

“Honey save me, they’re planning our wedding.”

Keith actually growled. “I told Akane to knock it off about the dancers.”

Lena jumped up excitedly from her seat. “Can I be a flower girl?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Darrell stopped on the sidewalk for a moment to take in what Shirogane had done with the brownstone, a charming bow-front structure dating back to the Gilded Age. He knew that when Shiro had purchased the townhouse it had fallen into a state of genteel disrepair. He’d done his research. Now the building was fully restored, and not only that, in the years Shiro had owned the place he’d planted a weeping maple in his tiny patch of a front garden, which now formed a leafy red shield for his garden floor door. The man took good care of what he claimed.

Satisfied with his initial inspection, Darrell hopped up the curving steps to the parlor floor door because that’s where he was expected. As he approached the arched front doors he took note of the pots of boxwood, bee balm and bluestar arrayed on the steps. The weather was still mild enough that they might not need to be taken indoors for another month or so.

The front door had wrought-iron scrollwork protecting its glass, as did all the parlor floor’s front windows. Fitted neatly under the cornice over the door was a weather-proof security camera, where anyone who ventured this far onto the porch could not fail to see it, but also could not reach it without a stepladder. Good. Deterrence should be part of its function. Darrell pressed the doorbell and heard its chime ringing deep inside the house.

All was silent for a long enough moment that Darrell considered ringing the doorbell again, but then he heard the tromp of thundering feet, followed by the muffled exclamation, “Ha! I win!”

The door opened on Lance’s beaming face, and a young woman with lips thinned in exasperation hovering in the doorway behind him. Lance wore sleek black relieved only by the vibrant colors in his courting necklace, the blue stone reflected in his eyes. Darrell wondered if Vibiana had ever told him of the particular ways in which he resembled his father. Lance looked like her too, so she may never have felt that telling him was worth the risk that calling attention to it might bring.

“Darrell, hi!”

The young woman behind Lance gave him a flick on the shoulder.

“I mean, welcome to our home, please come in! Would you like a drink?”

“Thank you, Lance,” Darrell said as he crossed the threshold and took Lance’s hands in a brief clasp. “I’ll have whatever everyone else is having.”

“Cool! I mean, wonderful! We’re all having Chablis.”

The young woman, who turned out to be the redoubtable Haruka he’d been hearing about, took his coat and then Lance led him down the hall to the rear parlor. The corner wet bar was visible through the open door, with the wine bucket set upon its mahogany counter. Inside the parlor were four other adults; their number including Shiro, two young people Darrell didn’t recognize but whose identities he could guess, and one older but still familiar face he never thought he’d get the chance to lay eyes on again.

“Everybody, this is Darrell Stoker, to whom I owe so much.”

Darrell felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat. “Lance.”

Lance just smiled up at him and laid a calming hand on his arm. “Darrell, meet my older brother Marco and my older sister Rachel, and of course you’ve already met Shiro and my mother.”

“How do you do.” Darrell shook hands with Marco and Rachel, got a friendly arm clap from Shiro, and then suddenly found himself with an armful of weeping Vibiana.

“Oh, Flaco.” She clutched at the lapels on his suit jacket, dampening the wool on his shoulder. “¡Lo lamento! I didn’t know what else to do, I’m so sorry for leaving without a word and now he’s gone!”

“Bibi.” Darrell gave her a gentle hug. “I’m sorry too, for not checking up on either of you sooner, and I know Chip would have understood.” 

As one of the last group of locals still working on the base, she could not possibly have remained in a forbidden town in her condition without attracting unwanted attention and an inquiry to which she could provide no answers that would satisfy the authorities. As the widowed mother of young children, she had come up with the best plan she could under stressful circumstances. Darrell knew his old friend would never have reproached her for it if he had known.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
A round of “Kampai!” went around the table as everyone lifted their warm cups of sake in both hands. Keith enjoyed the hints of melon and caramel dancing on his tongue as the alcohol settled his nerves. His eyes opened as he lowered the cup, and met the gaze of his fiancé sitting on his left at the head of the table.

“Were you named after the singer?” Keith asked. 

He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before. The song named after the toast wasn’t that obscure to anyone who’d spent a fair amount of time in karaoke bars, which Keith sure had. Maybe it was because Hunk rarely went by his given first name, although his nickname alluded to it.

“I guess so.” Hunk flushed as his family chuckled. “I mean... kinda?”

“Jin’s mother sang that song to soothe me while I was in labor with this one.” She rubbed Hunk’s arm, as she was sitting on the other side of him. “When the midwife brought around the birth certificate for me to fill out, the song was still running through my head.”

“And never a cause for regret,” Jin said from Alana’s left. “The name suits him.”

If Hunk got his expressive face from his mother, he got his sturdy frame from his father. Jin’s spicy-herbal scent encouraged a steadying calm that washed over the whole company in subtle waves of comfort the way a pack alpha’s should, though he was not forward about it. He had even ceded the seat at the foot of the table to Akane with the easy grace of an alpha who didn’t feel the need to make an issue of his status.

“He is a strapping young man, isn’t he?” agreed Hunk’s older sister Hina good-naturedly. She expressed a feminine balance of her parents’ features in much the same way that Hunk exhibited a masculine balance.

“You guys...” Hunk, looking profoundly sheepish, began the process of passing serving dishes to the right.

“How about you, Keith?” Hunk’s Uncle Jiro piped up from beside Hina. The beta looked like a taller, younger version of Jin, and over the short course of their acquaintance Keith had gotten the impression his usual family role was puncturing awkward moments with humorous diversions. Sure enough, “Were you named after The Human Riff?”

This guy would either get along famously with Lance or the reception wouldn’t be big enough for the both of them. Cooperation or competition: either prospect held the potential for a terrifying pun battle.

“I wanted to name him Yorak,” Krolia said as she accepted a dish of bamboo shoots from Keith’s hands, “after Great Uncle Yorak who let us use his cabin for our honeymoon, but Akira thought it would be bad luck to name him after a recently deceased relative and suggested Keith as a name with no previous connections to either of our families.”

Actually, Dad just really hadn’t wanted to saddle Keith with the name Yorak, which was a campfire confession from Keith’s eleventh birthday trip to Joshua Tree that he judiciously decided not to share with present company. “Dad was also a Stones fan,” was what he said instead, and this was true. It was also true that Dad had been a fan of Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’ music video co-starring Keith Carradine, but that didn’t really need to be shared with the whole table either.

“I’m psyched to sing “Kampai” at your reception feast,” Akane said.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Keith insisted. “I want you guys to be able to just relax and enjoy yourselves.”

“I will relax and enjoy myself, while I’m singing “Kampai” and dancing to your prosperity.”

“I want to dance too!” Lena was seated at the end of the table between Akane and her brother Mana. She looked hopefully between Akane and Keith. “Can I?”

Damn it, she was at that adorable tweenaged stage where she was just starting to look like a teenager but everything around her was still touched with magic. Keith had no problem saying no to inconsiderate jerks in his daily life, but he was uninitiated in the challenge of saying no to cute kids. Between her and his mom, his notions of having a low-key wedding were probably fucked. He traded a resigned glance with Hunk.

“If Akane is going to dance, I don’t see why you can’t too,” Keith said.

“I am,” Akane was quick to reaffirm.

“Yatta!” Lena went to raise her arms in jubilation and would've sent the nori flying out of the dish she was still holding if Mana hadn’t reached over to put a hand on her arm.

“I’ll check for upcoming availability on the ballroom,” Hunk said, before taking it upon himself to start pouring another round of sake for their guests.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Even with their extra unexpected guests, they hadn’t needed to extend the leaf on the formal dining table. A long rectangle of finished wood with carved sunbirds bursting out of the legs and dragons twirling on the decorative splat backs of the chairs, the set was extravagantly large and most likely antique. Shiro didn’t offer up much information about it, which led Lance to conclude that it was probably an heirloom passed down from his father’s side of the family. 

Shiro sat at the head of the table with Vibiana immediately to his right, and Darrell at the foot with Lance immediately to his left, as befitted the formality of the occasion. Rachel and Marco sat across from Lance and their mother, and the other eight chairs lined the far wall in case a softball team should drop in on them and need seats at the table. Haruka was acting as their majordomo tonight (which, really, when was she not) and had already poured the wine, a Pinot Gris with a juicy minerality like a barely-ripe pear.

Shiro stood, wine glass in hand. “I’d like to propose a toast.” He raised the cut crystal bowl of his stemware to eye level. “To finding family in unexpected places.”

Everybody lifted and tipped their glasses.

“Cheers!”

“Salud!”

Shiro sat, and then Darrell raised his glass. “I’d like to offer a toast to our hosts for bringing us all together tonight.”

More sips.

“Here, here!”

“To Flaco and Shiro, for taking care of my bebito.” Vibiana tearfully raised her glass.

More sips.

“Well said!”

Lance lifted his glass. “To love!”

Yet more sips.

“To love!”

“Amor!”

“We’re going to be drunk before the first course if we keep this up,” Rachel joked.

Marco lifted his glass. “To wine!”

Everybody laughed and the tension broke at the table. Haruka rounded the kitchen island right on cue with a serving platter wafting that substantially delicious steam that fried food had, like it could be eaten directly from the air. Haruka served clockwise beginning with Vibiana.

“To start, we have crab cakes and croquetas,” she said, and if Lance didn’t already know her well enough he would not have caught the strain in her steel-straight posture. Haruka was a woman with a high estimation for order and a certification in culinary technology, and she did not appreciate sudden disruptions to her groove.

Vibiana for her part looked downright smug.

“Two of my favorite things!” God bless Darrell. “Thank you, I don’t get to indulge in either of these very often, and so beautifully presented too.” 

He did look genuinely pleased as the serving platter arrived at his station, and Haruka’s shoulders relaxed marginally. Lance breathed a sigh of relief and prayed the rest of dinner would avert disaster as swimmingly as the starter course had.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
As Hunk had told him they would, his family took to the browned slices of linguiça just as readily as they did the chashu. His parents and uncle piled it into the broth on top of the noodles, while the younger family members served themselves little plates to mix with green onions and soy sauce.

“This is delicious, darlings,” Alana said, taking in both Hunk and Keith with her warm smile. It was clear she was very familiar with her son’s cooking and had an idea of what parts he had and hadn’t contributed to directly.

“Thanks Mom,” Hunk smiled back, “since you taught me all the fundamentals, that’s double thanks.”

“Me too,” Keith said, nudging shoulders with Krolia. “I learned to cook from studying my mom’s recipes.”

“You did?” Krolia asked softly; Keith replied with a murmur of assent.

“He sure didn’t learn it from me,” Akane said as she helped herself to some more noodles. “I’m a stunt driver.”

“No kidding?” Jiro took an immediate interest. “Been in anything I’ve heard of?”

“Well, have you heard of...”

Keith wasn’t sure if relatives flirting with each other at someone else’s meet-the-parents was a faux pas or not, but he was positive he was going to razz Akane for it at the earliest available opportunity.

Meanwhile, Alana’s attention had diverted to Krolia. “Did you apprentice with a master?” She looked intrigued.

“Not officially,” Krolia said. “Jiji ran a noodle shop, he always had at least one apprentice helping him and at one point that apprentice was my Mama. Since I was underfoot while she was working he decided to let me be her little helper, and when he noticed I had an aptitude he let me be more.” She smiled. “For a time, anyway.”

“Oh.” Alana looked concerned. “Did he make you stop after you presented?”

“My grandfather?” Krolia shook her head. “No, Jiji passed on and then Bob, one of the older apprentices, took over the shop. Bob was the one who made me stop after I presented.”

Keith tasted bitterness in his mouth, and it wasn’t from the black garlic oil. To think his mother might not have wound up going overseas if only she had been allowed to apprentice at the noodle shop. “What is Bob’s last name again?” He seemed to recall that guy being a cousin two or three times removed.

Krolia said, “Wakasa,” and Keith was sure now that he remembered the dude. Short, smirky, and due for an epic takedown very soon. Keith had once convinced a dumb rich kid that a pedestrian tunnel at Weller Court Plaza was haunted ‘cause the fucker wouldn’t stop trying to walk him home from Saturday school. He bet he could come up with something even better for Bob with a little time and inspiration.

Something of his determination to wreak a reckoning on good ol’ Bob must have shown in his face or scent because Hunk’s hand found his under the table.

“Bet you’re glad to have your mom here now, huh?” Hunk asked softly.

Keith wasn’t quite sure how Hunk always knew what went on with him, but he was grateful for it. “Yeah,” he said, and squeezed Hunk’s hand, but now that he’d been made aware that he could have had his mother there for his whole childhood, Bob was still going down.

“I sell cakes and sweetbreads at farmer’s markets.” Alana was still talking to Krolia. “Usually just at the one in Torrance on Saturdays, but sometimes I set up at other markets if I can spare the time and make back the gas money. It’s been a long time since I had a partner to share the load.”

“Aunt Leia moved away,” Hina, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, spoke up. “Broke the hearts of all the local foodies when she broke up the Sweet and Savory Sisters.”

Alana laughed. “We’re still sweet and savory sisters, she’s just savory in another state now.” She smiled at Krolia. “But I still have the griddle, cook top and thermoelectric fridge we used when Leia was making her loco moco at our booth.”

“Are you offering my Mom a job?” Keith blurted out, causing everyone else at the table to look up from their conversations.

Alana seemed delighted at Keith’s lack of chill, a reaction that he could safely say was not the usual response he got. “It would be more of a business opportunity.”

“You don’t have an open food permit anymore,” Jin pointed out, not unkindly.

“Not yet,” Alana countered. “We’d have to keep preparing everything in my kitchen until I can get that processed. My kitchen is legally a cottage food operation,” she added as an aside to Krolia, “and you would need a food handler permit, but you’d have thirty days from whenever you’d like to start to get that in order.”

Keith was beginning to get a picture of how Hunk might have developed an interest in the hospitality industry.

“I...” Krolia’s eyes widened, the only physical manifestation of her amazement aside from the sudden dissipation of her scent. “I don’t know how to make loco moco.”

“That’s okay,” Alana said. “I was thinking you could use your own recipes, but I can teach you mine too, if you want.”

Krolia returned Alana’s smile as her scent returned, sweet and powerful. “I accept. Thank you very much!” 

“Don’t mention it, it’s me who should be thanking you.”

They shook on it across the table before their progeny’s astonished eyes.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro had never been on an airplane before. He’d only ever been outside of Matsumoto once before, to drive to Tatsuno-shi for a firefly festival because Shiro had brought an omega whom Chichiue thought might be a potential mate on a holiday there, and Hahaue wanted to get a look at him. Chichiue had kept an apartment in Tokyo which technically belonged to Kuro now, but he had never been permitted to go there. He stared out the window of his first class cubby at the clouds slowly drifting into a form resembling a dragon.

Hahaue had the first class cubby across the aisle from Kuro’s and had his privacy partition up even though there was nobody else in the first class cabin of the Dreamliner with them. Cousin Shinji had opted for business class, and Hahaue had made their security guard Izu Tasuku ride economy class, which seemed counterproductive to Kuro but Hahaue hadn’t asked for his opinion.

No, Hahaue had just made their air hostess turn down his skybed and changed into the complimentary pajamas they’d both been given, then smeared on some night cream from the beauty kit he’d purchased from the onboard shopping catalog but hadn’t bothered to purchase for Kuro (“I don’t see what use it could possibly be to a child,” he’d said). After that, he’d put on the complimentary sleep mask and noise-canceling headphones and made himself comfortable.

That effectively left Kuro to his own devices.

“May I get you anything to drink, Shirogane-sama?”

Kuro answered the air hostess’s bright smile with one of his own. “Yes please Suchuwādesu-san, I would like the cappuccino.”

The air hostess bowed and went to get his coffee. Kuro looked over the menu and the in-flight movie list with renewed interest. With Hahaue passed out there was nobody to stop him from trying whichever of first class’s many gratis items that he wanted.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro sat up straight in the sculpted seat of his chair, enjoying the company while silently appreciating the comfort of the chair’s craftsmanship. The whole dining set was done in a Windsor-inspired style with Japanese joinery and ornamentation, a commission made by Shiro’s grandfather specifically for entertaining business associates from the West. He’d wanted to impress his foreign guests while also ensuring that their butts stayed comfortably in their seats for the duration of what might become prolonged negotiations. Now the furniture served to help facilitate possibly the greatest covenant of Shiro’s life.

So far dinner had gone off without a hitch, prepared and presented with Haruka’s impeccable timing and attention to detail. After hors d’oeuvres, they’d savored consomme de mer, steamed mussels in white wine, broccoli rabe ohitashi, and miso black cod, rounded off by New York style cheesecake. Everyone seemed full, content, and in Rachel’s case a little bit tipsy. Now they lingered over tiny plates of mocha daifuku and snifter glasses of Calvados, and it was time for Shiro to lay his cards on the zealously polished table.

Of course, there was a variable at play here that Shiro had not anticipated when he’d first decided to throw this dinner party. He had planned on asking Darrell for his blessing. They got along well and he was reasonably confident he would not be turned down. Politely questioned on his intentions, perhaps, and he was prepared for that possibility. But now Lance’s mother was here, and while she seemed one hundred percent on board with having a wedding, Shiro had to wonder if her feelings on the matter would remain the same were she to ever find out how he’d actually met her youngest son.

Ruminating on it wasn’t going to bring him any closer to a clear outcome. Shiro neatly folded his napkin and placed it on the table before rising from his chair, drink in hand.

“I would like to propose another toast.”

Five smiling faces, cheeks rosy from wine and brandy, looked up from their mignardises and conversations.

“To Lance.” He lifted his glass, cut crystal winking merrily under the recessed lighting, as he met Lance’s gaze down the table. “My life would be an austere repetition of unceasingly apathetic days without you in it. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“To Lance!” Lance’s brother cheerfully led the responding toasts while Lance himself gave Shiro bright eyes and a wobbly smile.

“And while we’re on the subject of Lance,” Shiro continued after tipping his glass, “it is my pleasure to announce that I have asked him if he would do me the honor of growing old with me.”

“Lance said yes,” was Lance’s immediate rejoinder, making the whole table laugh.

“So now it is time that I humbly request the blessing of Lance’s family.” Shiro set the snifter glass down on the table and bowed. “Please let me marry your precious one.”

“¡Qué romántico! Lance, he has flavor!”

“Rachel!”

“Shiro.” Darrell stood and returned his bow, and they both sat back down. “I won’t deny I’ve been carefully observing you ever since I found out Lance was coming here to live with you. What I’ve seen is a capable man who cultivates whatever he chooses to undertake. In addition to that, I have confidence in Lance’s gut instincts.” He put a hand on Lance’s shoulder to include him. “You both have my blessing.” 

Shiro felt some of the tension that had been straightening his back over the course of the evening begin to relax. “Dōmo arigato gozaimasu.”

Lance gave tearful thanks as well and turned to his mother. “¿Mamá?”

Vibiana looked between Lance and Shiro, face solemn. “Do you promise to honor your marriage vows, even if the wolf is at your door?” she asked her son.

Lance exhaled sharply. “Mamá, I swear it!”

“And you.” She turned again to Shiro. “Do you promise to stand by my son and take the bitter with the sweet, even when the bitter is so tart you’ll think your tongue has lost its hair?”

Shiro would not quail before a challenge. “You have my word.”

Vibiana nodded, a hint of a smile starting to form on her lips. “The stars may incline us, but they do not bind us. You have my blessings as well.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk reached in the pocket of his cargo pants for the small box that had been making his palms sweat in anticipation ever since Keith had brought out the cupcakes to share. The rough texture of wood grain met his fingertips. His dinner guests were now flying on carbs. This was the moment, before anybody could even begin to think of trying to make it to their cars in time to beat the inevitable sugar crash.

“Keith.”

“Hmmm?” Keith still had cupcake in his smiling mouth. He had relaxed considerably over the course of the dinner and it did Hunk’s soul good to see it.

He dropped out of his chair and onto one knee, before he could lose his nerve. Someone at the table gasped.

“I know we already talked about all of this, and I know you’re not wild about pageantry, so I arranged to have this small token of my regard made for you. You deserve to have somebody make a great big deal over you and I’d give you a parade if you’d let me, but I know you wouldn’t like that so I did this instead.” He opened the box and presented it to a stunned Keith. “Will you marry me?”

Okay, so they had already come to a joint decision to get married, but asking again in front of witnesses felt like a way to reassure Keith that Hunk really wasn’t going anywhere. It was a lucky break that the box’s contents had been ready in time, a really good omen. But what if Keith didn’t like it? 

Keith stared into the box for the longest second of Hunk’s life. Cradled in its slim wooden frame was an engagement ring, a saltwater pearl held securely in a prong setting of 18 karat red gold. Checking to find out if Keith was allergic to copper without tipping him off had not been easy, nor finding a vintage ring and a jeweler willing to rework it, but it was worth every bit of detective work if Keith liked it. Hunk had noticed his fondness for all shades of red.

“It’s perfect.” Keith’s voice had gone scratchy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes Hunk.” Keith’s exquisite eyes had become very glossy.

“Are you sure?”

Keith nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

“Because if you’re not sure then I can– ”

“Yes! I’ll marry you.” Keith smiled at Hunk through a shimmer of tears. “You can put that ring on my hand now. Please.”

Hunk slipped the ring on the third finger of Keith’s left hand as the table erupted in cheers, congratulations and relieved laughter. Hunk kissed the palm of Keith’s newly-ringed hand as Keith ran his other hand through Hunk’s hair.

This was the best day.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Why do you suppose they call it Américain here and Americans call it Tartare?”

Acxa looked up from her sample menus at Narti’s question.

“Maybe because neither wants to admit to liking raw cow,” she speculated.

Acxa and Narti were actually both U.S. citizens by way of one parent. Narti had been raised there, Acxa hadn’t. They sat together companionably in the penthouse lounge, breakfasting on coffee and beignets purchased from a vendor on the narrow, cobblestone street running along one side of the row house. Honerva had left them more or less in charge before jetting off on an early flight to Heathrow, intent on having strong words with her ex-husband. 

The reason for those strong words was still asleep in the bed he was no longer sharing with his lawfully wedded wife. Narti had caught Acxa sleeping on the penthouse sofa several nights prior and offered to share her double bed in the only private room on the staff floor. Acxa had since discovered the strange comfort of waking to the warmth of a cat snuggling the top of one’s head.

She decided to add the filet américain to the list of cold hors d’oeuvres on the master menu she was winnowing from the samples. If Lotor didn’t like it he could strike it when he vetted her choices. Pretty much the only thing she could count on him for lately was his strident opinion.

“Need any help with the guest list?” Narti asked as she passed over the cheese board list she’d pared down.

“If his nibs doesn’t wake up in time to attend to it, yes please and thank you.” 

They were pushing it for time on this party, so Acxa was grateful for Narti’s insistence on helping out. It had to come across as a casual party to their guests because it was much too late to send out invitations for a formal party, but the planning going into it was not casual in the slightest.

If Acxa had her choice she’d prefer veto power over Lotor’s guest list than the other way around. He had a habit of springing last minute surprises which his staff then had to scramble to account for. It would be a load off everyone’s minds if they could just stay one step ahead of him.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro stared at the monitor in front of him as if he could beam his incredulosity through the screen to the characters. What kind of ridiculous movie was this? A man clones his family and thinks he can get away with erasing the memory of one child from their clone brains? Did he not realize that he failed to erase the memory of that child from the brains of all the non-clone people they would interact with in daily life?

Kuro was glad he had saved his chocolate truffle for after the credits rolled. The in-flight movie had not lived up to his expectations as well as most of the food had done.

When the air hostess had shown him the menus, he had decided to test out all of the dishes he had never been allowed to try before. Hahaue would have a fit if he knew what all his son had eaten. Kuro had quite enjoyed the chewy bread and cheese, and the tender coq au vin. He found the caviar less smoky than tobiko, and less crunchy but still with a pleasant pop to recommend it. He was not a fan of the vichyssoise. The gaijin could keep that one.

He unwrapped the chocolate truffle slowly as the movie’s end credits played out. This was going to be so good.

“Kuro-kun!”

Kuro yelped and almost dropped the chocolate at his mother’s screech. It would have been a tragedy for the confection to wind up on the floor.

“Okaa-san! You scared me!”

“What is that in your hand?” Hahaue was half sat-up in the skybed with the sleep mask pushed up on his forehead. “Do you want to ruin your diet? Too much indulgence is bad for the body!”

Oh no. Kuro had not come this far with the truffle wafting its bittersweet aroma from the heat of his fingers only to lose out on chocolate bliss now. Scowling defiantly, he crammed the entire treat into his mouth and chewed.

Hahaue scowled back. “I might as well give money to a cat as give advice to you!”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance went to his bedroom door wearing only a dressing gown which he hoped he wouldn’t be wearing for much longer. It had been such a good night, he felt like he was walking on air. This was cause for celebration, and he could think of no better place to celebrate than in Shiro’s room. He flung open the door and nearly walked right into his mother.

“¡Qué susto!”

“I brought tea,” said Vibiana, and so she had, holding before her a hard plastic tray bearing two dainty teacups and a little Pyrex teapot of what was, from the golden color and the fact that he couldn’t tell it’s aroma apart from his mother’s, some really good chamomile. She must have somehow gotten past Haruka and found the dumbwaiter.

“I guess I must have heard you out there,” Lance laughed nervously as he stood aside to let her in. She narrowed her eyes at him as she walked past, and miércoles, she surely knew what he’d been up to.

“I’ve been able to read you like a book since you were tiny,” she said as she carried the tea service over to the small sitting area in front of the bay window. “Except for that one time, when you planned to run away from home and I had no clue.”

Lance closed the door and crossed the room to move the vase of five fragrant lavender roses from the tea table over to the bedside table so that his mother could set down the tray. Shiro had brought them home for him several days before.

“Love at first sight,” Vibiana commented on the meaning of the roses’ color with a sad smile. “I never told you this, but that was what it was like with your father and me.”

“That was the reason why I had to come here,” Lance said as they took seats facing each other in the floral-upholstered armchairs. “I wanted to find him.” His mother had remained tight-lipped about him, even after confessing to his existence.

“Did something happen to your hands,” Vibiana asked as she poured the tea, “that you could not write and let me know you were alright?”

“A lot of stuff happened.” Lance squirmed in his plush seat.

“Did you know your abuela was once a jinetera?” Vibiana handed Lance a cup of tea and sat back in her chair. “It was before I was born and not for very long, but she hitchhiked sometimes.”

Lance tried to imagine Mima, with her wizened little face and her fluffball of hair which she rinsed with cassia every two weeks without fail, putting on lipstick and a miniskirt to loiter outside of hotels. Granted, he hadn’t been able to enjoy her company since childhood so he might be viewing her through the lens of nostalgia goggles, but he still couldn’t picture it.

“Did Pipo know?”

“Yes and he’d never stand for a word against her in his hearing.” Vibiana sipped her tea. “Before the worries over social diseases and the room-sharing laws that arose from that, many people viewed it as just another part of la vida, a way to make ends meet.”

“So...” Lance blew on his hot tea, shoulders tensed. “If I’d had to do something like that to make ends meet, would you understand?”

“I will never judge you for trying to keep body and soul together, bebito.” Vibiana’s gaze upon her son was steady and bright, and Lance felt a sympathetic quiver in response. “But mijo, I have to wonder if your betrothed would be so understanding.”

“He already knows, Mamá.” 

One could even present the argument that Shiro was his most satisfied customer ever, but Lance wasn’t sure if explaining that part of it would backfire so he decided not to elaborate.

Vibiana’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh cariño, I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you Mamá.” Lance offered her a tremulous smile. “For everything.” There was no way to express it all in just words. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk walked his mother to the door while Keith stayed behind to brew a nightcap of ginger honey tea. Jin had gone ahead to situate the Tupperware containers. He refused to put a backseat organizer in his truck, adamant that he had a system for buckling in food containers, despite that his own wife was an expert in food transportation and used organizers herself.

Everybody else had already bid them goodnight and taken some leftovers home with them. Even Krolia had eventually been persuaded to go home with Akane in her red Z car (and if Uncle Jiro thought nobody had noticed him trading phone numbers with Akane, he had another think coming). Hunk’s parents had insisted on staying behind to help with the cleanup, and Hunk had decided to let them. For one, he didn’t want Keith to tackle that mountain of dishes by himself, and he’d surely try if left to his own. For two, Alana obviously had something on her mind so Hunk would let her have this opportunity to gather her thoughts and say whatever she was going to say to him.

Alana took her shoes from the outdoor rack and sat herself on the Adirondack chair to put them on, which was a little over-the-top of her because they were mules. Hunk knelt before her.

“Allow me.”

“My son, the charmer,” Alana chuckled but let him have the shoes. “You’ve grown up so fast.”

“Not that fast.” Hunk took his time sliding the shoes on her feet. “Hina’s only six years older than me and she’s got two kids almost ready for high school.”

“You’ve got even more years on your bride, no?”

So that’s what this was about. “We’re both in our twenties.”

Alana raised an eyebrow at that. “Which birthday did Keith have today?”

Hunk sighed. “He’s twenty-one.” And Hunk was pushing thirty. “But Mom, he’s lived a lot in his years.”

Alana nodded, frowning in concern. “I did wonder about that.”

She couldn’t have failed to notice the scar on his cheek. It was unfortunately not altogether uncommon to see an omega with a maimed face, as some assholes responded to a claim declination with retaliation. Hunk still felt a festering need to go and deal with the fucker himself, but Akane had informed him that the alpha in question was already in prison for assaulting a police officer and was likely to remain there for some time. She’d also told him that if the guy ever did get released then Hunk was going to have to get in line.

“He’s a strong person,” Hunk said as he helped his mother to his feet.

“I don’t doubt it.” Alana let her son help her down off the porch, and then hooked arms with him as they began to mosey down the driveway. “Surviving in an omega hostel for what, three years?” 

She met Hunk’s eyes and then he knew: she knew, but she wasn’t sure if he knew. 

“More like two and a half,” Hunk said. “His cousin managed to hold off Omega Services for about six months so he could finish high school.”

“Did you know your auntie stayed in a hostel for a little while?”

“Aunt Leia?” Hunk had not known that. “Really?”

Alana nodded. “Papa wanted her to go to finishing school but she wanted to study for a teaching degree. He told her if she wanted to stay under his roof she would study what he told her to, so she moved out.”

“But Pappy was so proud of her?” This was blowing Hunk’s mind.

“He was,” Alana confirmed as they ambled around the side of the house where Jin’s double cab Tacoma was parked close to the picket fence. “He took us all to see her, there in the hostel. The one in Gardena.”

Hunk knew the place. It was actually the one Shay had almost gone to, and was nowhere near as hinky as the one in Hollywood, but neither was it the Ritz. He could easily imagine it leaving a strong impression on his mother as a teenager.

“So what happened?”

“When we got there, there were omegas of the evening just coming back from their night’s work. Leia was in the common room where the visitors could go, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. I tasted some of that coffee, Hunk. It was burnt from being in the urn for who knows how long. Papa actually gagged when he tried it, but Leia drank it with a face as smooth as glass. He complained about the accommodations in that place, loudly and profanely. I think he was hoping to shame Leia, but she told him, “You should not disparage this hostel, Papa, I have to live here.” And Papa was the one ashamed.”

They strolled down the sidewalk towards the truck, its inferno orange paint job like a banked flame under the street lights.

“So Pappy gave in?”

“He needed a little more persuading.” Alana leaned into her son’s side as they walked. “He and Mama had an argument in the garage, where they thought I couldn’t hear them. Mama pointed out that Leia was just as proud as he was, that she would hold out no matter what because she was his daughter through and through, but if she stayed there much longer she was going to be joining those omegas of the evening on their rounds because that would be the only way she could earn her bread.” She patted Hunk’s arm and looked up at him. “Then your Pappy gave in, and nobody bragged more on Leia than he did when she graduated from Cal State with her teaching credentials.”

“Keith didn’t have any other place to go,” Hunk said, meeting her eyes again, trying to impart to her that he was well aware of what went on.

“Then he is a brave soul.” They stopped together outside the closed passenger door of the Tacoma, Jin’s silhouette visible in the driver’s seat. “A brave soul with a lion’s heart.”

“I feel privileged that he trusts me with it.” Hunk took his mother’s hands in his.

“And I will feel proud to see him in Tutu’s gown.”

“Um, what.” Hunk might get whiplash from the swerves this conversation kept taking.

“Mama wanted to save it for Leia’s wedding, and then Leia told me she was saving it for Hina’s wedding, but I think it would be wonderful to see Keith walk down the aisle toward you wearing it.”

“I, ah...” Oh boy. “I think Krolia and Akane were planning to put him in a kimono?” Keith had been stomping around muttering about it shortly after Akane had come over. “Or like, several kimono.”

“That’s only for the private ceremony and the banquet reception.” Jin had leaned over to open Alana’s door and now sprawled across the passenger seat so that he could join the conversation. “If you want all your friends to witness your marriage, then you’ll have to add a chapel ceremony after the private ceremony.”

“Yes!” Alana beamed up at her son. “That’s why you need the ballroom and the gown!”

Good gravy. Keith definitely wanted Lance at their wedding, so a ceremony not restricted to immediate family would be a must and this was starting to sound like his bluff about the ballroom was being called. Their quiet little wedding was already growing into a great big beast of a wedding, and they hadn’t even saved the date yet.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro had wondered if Lance would make the trip across the hall tonight. Wondered and hoped, but he’d been dressed for sleep for over an hour and still not a peep. It had been a big night after a long day though, and the house was still full of people. Darrell Stoker was not one of those people, having elected to return to his hotel room to think on Shiro’s job offer.

_“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great offer and I am interested, I just wouldn’t feel that I was doing my due diligence if I didn’t give it my fullest consideration before giving you an answer. I might even have some more questions for you.”_

That attitude was one of the reasons Shiro had offered him the job in the first place, so he was not displeased.

Somebody stepped on the one creaky board just outside the bedroom door. Lance had stepped on it exactly once and never stepped on it again afterward, but maybe he was too tired to remember where it was, and who could blame him after such an eventful day? Shiro skipped to the door and opened it with a grin on his face and found himself standing half-naked in front of Lance’s mother.

“Good evening.” Shiro hoped he sounded dignified and not like Count Dracula. His whole naked chest was blushing.

“Yes it has been a very good evening hasn’t it?” Vibiana maintained a straight face that a cardsharp would envy. “I brought tea.” She carried the tea tray in front of her like a shield as she breezed on past him into the bedroom.

Shiro experienced a moment’s satisfaction when she stopped suddenly in front of his sitting area. Where she’d probably been expecting to find armchairs and a side table, instead were zaisu chairs and a chabudai tea table on a fleece-covered tatami mat. He’d furnished most of the house in accordance with its Western design aesthetic, but he’d figured if he was comfortable enough with someone to take tea with them in his bedroom, then they’d be comfortable enough with him to sit on the floor.

Vibiana recovered quickly and knelt to set the tray down on the tea table. She was wearing house slippers, so Shiro decided the ‘no shoes in the bedroom’ rule could be relaxed. He took advantage of her distraction to snatch his dressing gown up off the bench at the foot of his bed and throw it on, belting the sash as he joined her on the tatami mat.

“How may I be of service to you tonight?” Shiro asked as he settled cross-legged on his zaisu. Vibiana paused in her pouring of the tea. Did that come out weird?

“I wish to have a discussion with you about my son and the wedding,” she finally said as she gingerly sat back on her own zaisu, tucking her legs to the side instinctively in what was actually proper form for a lady in an informal situation such as this one. With two cups now steaming fragrantly on the table, Shiro realized that what he’d first assumed was her pheromones puffing out was actually coming from the tea.

“I love your son,” Shiro said as he accepted a warm teacup with both hands. “I want to see that he has everything he needs, in the wedding and in life.”

Vibiana seemed to mull that over as she took a sip of her tea. Shiro took a sip as well. He recognized the small novelty cups which Haruka liked to leave in the front of the cabinets as a decoy for the more valuable ceramics hidden farther in the back: a beckoning lucky cat enameled inside the cup would be gradually revealed as the tea was drunk. The tea tasted like sweet straw, pleasant to his palate which was not conditioned by heavily oxidized teas to expect only bittersweet tannic notes. He was also picking up floral notes, and apple?

“I brew with apple slices,” Vibiana explained, as she had been watching his face with keen attention. “It adds just enough sugar.”

“I like it,” Shiro decided.

Vibiana nodded. “And I like your answer. I believe our planning session for Lance’s frock will prove very productive.”

Ah, of course, the– wait, what the frock?

“I wish to make my son’s frock with my own two hands.” Vibiana was still talking. “Like my parents did for me.”

“But,” Shiro was still mildly confounded by the conversational curve ball, “you made him try on the puffy sleeves?”

Vibiana smiled craftily. “Yes, he thought he was very clever, offering to let me put designer frocks on him so he could get me out of your housekeeper’s way. That one is feeling threatened by my Lancito’s presence, I think you should know that.”

Shiro hadn’t known that, but he honestly couldn’t say he was surprised. Haruka did not handle change easily. When they’d first moved to New York, he’d redone large parts of the garden floor apartment to look and feel like a Japanese apartment at Kai’s entreaty on her behalf, and then she’d avoided leaving the brownstone until a need for specialty groceries had finally forced her out into the city. Shiro knew that once she’d lived with a change for a little while she would adapt and sally forth as resolutely as ever, but he would arrange to have tea with her soon just the same. He didn’t want anyone in his household to be frightened of what the future held.

“While my son thought he was pulling the wool over my eyes, I was taking down all of his measurements and paying attention to everything he said he liked and demonstrated that he didn’t like,” Vibiana said. “So he need not worry himself over the puffy sleeves, even though I still think they would look very nice.”

“He’ll be relieved to know that he won’t have to wear puffed sleeves.” Shiro made a mental note never to underestimate his mother-in-law. “But, um. How come you’re speaking of this to me instead of Lance? Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck for me to know what the frock looks like before the wedding ceremony?”

“Supposedly.” Vibiana tapped her fingernails on her teacup. “I don’t think it hurts anything to talk about parts of it, though. For example, did you know of the custom for brides who are not virgins to wear a red frock instead of the white?”

“Red is a lucky color for Japanese brides,” Shiro replied, as his mind immediately snapped to Lance’s outfit from their night at the opera. “Lance looks wonderful in red.”

“Perhaps I will incorporate that color into the accessories,” Vibiana said drily, and Shiro realized he had just confirmed for her that he and Lance had already slept together. “As for Lance, he keeps saying he wants the color of the fabric to be champagne. He said this enough times that I know it is not just some passing fancy, he is serious. Does this mean anything to you?”

Shiro’s memory cast back to their first night together, and the first thing they’d shared, before anything that came after. Something Shiro had offered knowing that he didn’t have to, and evidently Lance had picked up on that too, and remembered it. Strawberries and champagne. He smiled. “Yes, it means something.”

Vibiana hummed thoughtfully. “Alright then.” She nodded again. “I will need your help acquiring fabric and other materials. I can get you a list, or I can give it to your housekeeper if you would really prefer not to know anything about the frock. I will also need a private space to work in, one where Lance cannot get into. I want it to be a surprise when he tries it on for the final fitting, like mine was when my parents first showed it to me in Papá’s workroom.”

“Well, there’s an office right next door to your bedroom,” Shiro said. “Although, Lance was hoping to use that office for his schoolwork. His first class is later this week.”

“What do you suppose the chances are that Lance has already been in there to daydream while you are at work?”

Shiro frowned as he thought about it. Lance did have a fanciful streak, and he had probably been spending too much time alone in the days before his family arrived. “I think the chances of that are very high.”

“Then that’s no good because now he can get in there any time he wants, and he will want to very soon.”

The only place in the brownstone that Shiro was confident Lance couldn’t or wouldn’t try to find a way into if he decided he needed to be in there – and knowing his mother was working on something in that room would be enough to pique his curiosity – was the garden floor apartment. Given what he’d just found out, that might be asking more of Haruka than she could sanely tolerate. “What do you propose?”

“Do you have a space that is not in this building where I will not be in someone’s way?”

“I– ” Come to think of it, he might have. “I never withdrew the bid.”

Vibiana looked perplexed. “Bid?”

“On a place in Havana on the Hudson.” Shiro felt relief from the pit of his soul. This one oversight had the potential to resolve numerous issues. “I put a bid on it, and I never withdrew it. I could still close on that place.” All he had to do was get seriously aggressive on the other bidders. He could do that. Damn it, he was even good at that.

“Why do you have an offer on a place called Havana on the Hudson?”

“It’s a place in Havana on the Hudson,” Shiro automatically corrected her, his mind already working through what he’d have to do to convince the seller to accept his offer over the others. “A Cuban enclave in West New York, I– ” He had bid on the place thinking to keep Lance like a courtesan, in a place where he thought Lance would feel comfortable. 

From the look on Vibiana’s face, she was working it out too.

“Vibiana.” Shiro set down his teacup. “Your son recognized what we truly meant to each other even when I was acting a fool. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving I’ve learned my lesson, if that’s what it takes.”

“My son won’t make you prove yourself for the rest of your life.” Vibiana set down her own teacup. “He has a forgiving nature.” She sighed. “From one fool to another, I think he got that from his father. I will let you show me this place. Something good may yet come of it.”


	4. No Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickenth. Hunk and Keith save the date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos, thanks so much to PyroInfinite and luminiferousaether for your comments, and happy holidays to anyone who celebrates one of the many festivals that are going on right now! My updates are probably going to slow down a little from here, but not too much.

  
Matt thanked the bartender as he accepted the pint glass of cold lager. Sometimes attending these dinners with his husband felt a lot like attending school awards banquets during his formative years. They had a chaperone, everybody was dressed up just enough to feel self-conscious about it, and they were all milling around outside for a constrained interval to give the big people plenty of time to put out any last minute fires behind the scenes.

However, unlike school awards banquets there was booze here, and their escort officer did not hover quite so warily as a parent would. There was also Ryan looking devastatingly handsome in mess dress uniform. It was a definite upgrade.

“Did you know,” Ryan stepped close with a beer of his own, “that this pilsner owes its clarity and attenuated body to a bottom-feeding yeast that can survive near-freezing temperatures?”

Matt took a moment to smile fondly at his husband and just appreciate the way the shorter dinner jacket emphasized the sublime V shape of his torso. “Those yeast deserve a credit on the ingredients list then, because they did a bang-up job.”

The truth was, Matt was probably never going to know as much about yeast as Ryan did, and he was fine with that. He enjoyed dabbling in the natural sciences, but his research background was chiefly in the formal sciences. On the other hand if Ryan and Matt’s dad had been turned loose in a situation just like this one, they would have flabbergasted any would-be eavesdroppers by name-dropping all of the single-celled organisms there were to know.

“Are you enjoying yourselves over here?” Captain Kehl showed up promptly to put a stop to their marital flirting. There was mingling to be done! “Have you met Lieutenant Colonel Steele and his lovely wife Hira?”

Kehl was actually an okay guy, if a bit married to procedure. He’d arranged the car which had brought them to the officer’s club, and he’d explained on the drive over about how the night’s formalities had been loosened because their guest speaker had canceled at the eleventh hour. It came to the attention of the project officers that military brass from NATO partners sharing the complex had made inquiries about the same meeting room for the same rough time period. The pretext for some cooperative socializing proved too attractive to pass up, all of which had led to this moment of enjoying the patio and the open bar while waiting for the dinner chime.

Matt kind of hoped this meant there wouldn’t be a grog toilet. The service members seemed to enjoy it, but it was not appetizing to watch in action. Knowing that the toilet had never been used did little to counteract the gut-level ‘nope’ reaction.

“Well aren’t you a long cool drink of water,” said Hira Steele in a longtime smoker’s sultry burr. The tobacco from her cigarette disguised her scent, but the simple fact that it did pointed to beta. She was an attractive redhead with hard eyes in a soft face, and it took Matt a second to realize she was talking to him.

“I eat my Wheaties,” he said, and she laughed longer than the joke deserved.

Male omegas had the choice of dressing according to black tie protocol (minus the tie) or cocktail chic for a function such as this one. Matt had decided to split the difference and paired a light dinner jacket with dark trousers, the neutral tones in the fabrics making the warm tones in his skin and hair stand out by contrast. He had half-expected this kind of behavior once the drinks poured freely, but not from this quarter.

She might be laboring under the misconception that male omegas couldn’t get anyone pregnant. In actual fact it was difficult, but not impossible. Matt had thought that mystique died out after the sexual revolution, but maybe the news hadn’t yet reached whatever rock this lady had crawled out from under.

“Did you know we were supposed to hear a talk from a physicist tonight,” said Lt. Col. Steele, tidy mustache quivering in outrage, “but she eighty-sixed us with no explanation!”

“Emery,” Hira warned quietly as other minglers glanced in their direction. If there was a grog toilet, the Lt. Col. had better gird his loins.

“But it’s inexcusable!” Emery was not having it, the threat of drinking some ridiculous concoction out of an actual toilet bowl be damned. “Doctor Honerva Lanier Manigford, her high and mightiness, reneged on a prior engagement for some undefined family emergency and flitted off to England, and now I’m hearing through scuttlebutt that she will be throwing her own party before the month is out? Unconscionable!”

Matt leaned forward eagerly, beer forgotten. “You don’t say?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“What do you mean, the connecting flight was canceled?” 

Hahaue towered in a fury while the poor ticket agent bowed so deeply it was clear he was considering whether he should drop to the floor. Kuro stood quietly away from the fracas with Izu keeping a watchful eye over him.

“Forgive me Shirogane-sama, but a storm system has moved into this area bringing thunder and heavy rains with it and we cannot risk take-off because of the lightning and wind factor!”

“Thank you for thinking of our safety, ējento-san.” Cousin Shinji took over smoothly while Hahaue fumed. “How long do you estimate we will be grounded?”

The ticket agent bowed to Shinji now, the beta’s green tea scent thickening with gratitude. “Weather forecasts predict at least three hours, possibly more than a day, Ise-sama. We would be thrilled to help arrange a hotel for your comfort as we work tirelessly to find comparable seats on the next available flight to your destination.”

“Where does Takashi-kun stay when he comes here?” Hahaue reinserted himself into the conversation. “Wherever he stays, that will surely suffice.”

Shinji looked over at Hahaue in surprise. “He stays at the Beverly Wilshire, but Tatsuo-san, there are five star hotels much closer to this air– ”

“That is where we will stay.” Shirogane Tatsuo was capable of carrying himself like the consort of exalted lineage which he was, but Kuro had seen his mother truly lose his temper before and his snappish tones promised a meltdown to rival the storm building outside if his decree was met with refusal.

“Very well.” Shinji had apparently also recognized the signs and decided the better part of valor would be discretion in this case. “You need not trouble yourself with the hotel arrangements, ējento-san. I have met the general manager of this hotel before and would prefer to handle the reservations myself. Your efforts would be better spent on arranging a car for us to use. Izu-san here can explain our needs in that regard.”

After bows were traded to clinch this agreement, Hahaue dragged Kuro over to the rows of purple seats where some other passengers were already sprawled in exhaustion. Izu conversed with the ticket agent in low tones while still keeping one eye on his charges. Shinji paced over to the long, arching windows to jabber on his cell phone. Kuro did not put up even token resistance to Hahaue’s clutching hands. He was so tired he would have lain down on the floor right there in the airport if only there had been a futon in their luggage.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk had been half-expecting to field a call from somebody’s relative today, but he sure hadn’t expected it to be Shiro’s. Shinji Ise, while not as frequent a visitor to the hotel as Shiro, was nevertheless a memorable guest. He was, as Hunk recalled, a friendly beta and a gentlemanly flirt, and he was bringing two omegas and their bodyguard with him, which meant this flirtatious gent was going to be around Keith very soon. Hunk would have to make sure he was there when they were introduced, just to get the point across that Keith was spoken for.

Hunk also ordinarily wouldn’t be the one taking a reservation but this was Shiro’s family and it seemed that Shiro’s family had caught onto his willingness to go the extra mile wherever Shiro was concerned. Shinji requested the Governor Suite with the three bedroom configuration, and put in an advance order for two large smoked salmon pizzas and a pitcher of sangria from room service.

“Would you like to add a soft drink to the order, for the minor?” 

_“Oh don’t worry Garrett-san, the sangria is for me. Tell you what though, I’ll go ahead and add one of those fancy hot coffee drinks for Kuro-chan. The kid likes coffee.”_

Coffee and smoked salmon pizza. Hunk looked out of his office window, where it was starting to come down cats and dogs. Maybe this Kuro kid had the right idea with the hot coffee.

“I’ll make sure everything is ready and waiting for your arrival.”

_“Appreciate it.”_

Hunk finalized the reservations, put in the necessary orders and leaned his chin on his hands, thinking. Was Shiro aware that what appeared to be a family delegation had just arrived on the scene without any fanfare? Was it any of Hunk’s business to pry into that?

Was he really kidding himself that he wouldn’t? Hunk took his office phone off the cradle and started to dial Shiro’s home line, then thought better of it and dialed Lance’s cell phone instead. Hopefully he wasn’t sleeping in after his own eventful family dinner.

_“Hunk!”_ Lance was awake and sounded excited. _“Shiro gave me my own office to redecorate however I want but I think he was just distracting me because he took off somewhere with my mom and nobody knows where they went!”_

Okay, that was interesting, but probably not urgent.

“Lance, has Shiro ever talked to you about his cousin Shinji?”

_“Um, yeah? I mean, that’s like the cousin who has all the best stories according to Shiro. What’s that got to do with my mom? She could be talking him into buying a frock for me right now! One with jumbo-sized puffy sleeves!”_

“If he knows you don’t want puffy sleeves, you have to trust that he’ll honor that expectation.” This was going to be a day that tested Hunk’s fortitude, he could feel the heartburn already. “Lance, does the name Kuro mean anything to you?”

_“That’s Shiro’s little brother.”_ Lance was silent for a long moment. _“Hunk, what’s going on?”_

“They’re here.” Hunk rustled through the desk drawer that held his bottle of Tums. “In Los Angeles.” His fingers closed around the oddly-shaped plastic container. “They’re coming to the hotel to check in.”

_“But... we haven’t even set a date yet.”_

“I know.” The lid was not cooperating. Hunk cracked it against the side of his desk. “Lance, there are a number of steps an alpha of Shiro’s lineage would usually go through to ensure his family approved of any match he made. Has he discussed any of this with you?”

_“I thought that was what we did last night.”_

“He got your family’s approval last night.” At last the chalky pastel discs rolled into Hunk’s palm. “I’ve got a feeling his family has come here to make sure he asks for theirs too.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Sending his references to the association board had been surprisingly easy, in that it was already done. “They sent a formal request with your signed application attached,” Omnia told him over the phone, “so I verified it and took care of it.” That was why Shiro paid her the top tier for her job title’s going wage. 

He already had lender preapproval and a well-compensated insurance agent who could get the place covered under priority, all he need do was ask. The only thing really left to do before finalizing his offer was to meet with the board. He was confident that an explanation of wanting to house in-laws would go over much better than the original plan would have done.

That was assuming his mother-in-law-to-be liked the high-rise condo well enough to use it. The condo’s owner was selling through a realtor, who had allowed them to pick up the keys to view the place in privacy. Shiro’s reputation preceding him sometimes had its perks.

He followed Vibiana through a foyer painted ‘buy me’ semi-gloss white and into a kitchen warm with red oak cabinets and variegated tiles on the splash-backs and floor. A shiny tea kettle sat on an unlit burner, waiting for the touch of someone coming home. Vibiana looked around the kitchen and over her shoulder at Shiro with a raised eyebrow.

“You chose a place like this, and it did not occur to you that you might be seeking a suitable bower for roosting and building a nest?”

“Love is blind, and so was I.”

Vibiana smiled at him and continued on into the dining room. The condo was a partially-furnished turnkey, so there was an oak dining set and sideboard already in there, ready to play host to the sort of home-cooked meals that Shiro occasionally overheard Daniel waxing effusive about. A glass panel door lead out onto the balcony. 

Vibiana walked past the balcony door and turned into the living room. Two Lawson sofas faced each other across a cottage style coffee table in a layout better suited for a klatch then any hypothetical TV watching. Vibiana circled through the living room into the short hall and poked her head into the walk-in closet.

“Lots of room to store materials in here,” she said approvingly.

Shiro had initially thought it would be useful for Lance’s growing wardrobe. When he moved Lance into his bedroom they were going to have to figure out a solution that didn’t involve forcing him to try sharing Shiro’s regimentally organized closet. Vibiana returned to the hall and looked into the bathroom, daintily appointed in a Neo-Victorian style.

“This is very pretty,” she said. “Not so great for an omega, though.” She waved at the fixtures and their lack of anything that looked like it could spray water in any direction besides down.

“So I’ve learned.” Lance had been hilariously erudite in his estimation of his room’s bathroom facilities compared to Shiro’s.

“For a beta it’s no problem,” Vibiana decided, and then turned again and went into the bedroom.

The bedroom suite furniture was heavy cherry wood, consisting of a sleigh bed, night stand, armoire and storage trunk. The bed had been dressed in white cotton, the windows draped in the same lined chintz as the living room’s. Seeing the bedroom in person, Shiro realized he’d never actually visualized himself in it. Some part of his subconscious mind had already known that Lance belonged at home with him.

They went out on the balcony together. Partially enclosed, it ran the length of the apartment, its top floor location providing a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline across the Hudson River. There was a trellis next to the bedroom window where the tenant could craft an urban garden if they so wished. Rattan patio furniture snugged up against the wall beside the door. Shiro sat down on the blue canvas cushions to feel the brick facade securely at his back. 

Vibiana leaned forward on the railing as a breeze lifted her hair. “How do people get around without an automobile in this place?” she asked as she peered fearlessly down at vehicles marching up and down the boulevard below like ants. 

The tower had a parking garage, but they hadn’t yet discussed getting another car. Shiro wasn’t sure if Vibiana or any of her children were legally provisioned to drive one except for Lance, who now had an interim permit.

“There’s a rapid transit system connecting this area to New York City,” Shiro replied, “but a lot of the residents use a hail and ride bus called a gwa-gwa for local errand-running.” He thought that was what the realtor told him it was called.

“A guagua?” Vibiana smiled at him again. “That is convenient. I think my daughter will like it here after I have finished making Lancito’s wedding frock.”

Her daughter? “Do you mean Rachel?”

“Sí. Veronica is staying in Miami, her wife’s familia already set her up with a job. My Rachel, though.” Vibiana looked out across the water. “She loves learning so much she’s like a racehorse with blinders on. I have heard this place has famous universities.”

“There is an Ivy League university within commuting distance, and a number of other highly ranked colleges and universities.” Shiro himself had graduated from one of them. He liked to think he wasn’t overly biased about it.

“Good.” Vibiana nodded to herself. “If Rachel comes back to Miami with me she will get caught up in the walk of life. She will try to compete with Veronica, and Vero will just egg her on.” She chuckled. “Always wanting to be busy, that one, teasing Rachel and Lance for being the space cadets. If the earth stood still she would fall off because she would still be moving.”

Shiro was beginning to get the impression that Veronica was the one who took after Vibiana the most. “I’ll help Rachel pursue her education in any way that I can. If she applies to NYU I can even arrange some introductions.” Maybe he was just a little bit biased. 

Vibiana turned her wistful smile away from the scenery to take in Shiro, who was sitting as far back on the rattan couch as a man could get, fingers clutching the braided edge under the cushion. If, somehow, the breeze were to lift up the couch with him on it and sail over the railing, maybe Shiro could hold the couch over his head like a leaky parachute.

“You have a good heart under that hard head,” Vibiana said.

Shiro was able to push aside the knowledge of being over 250 feet above the ground with nothing but air and some decorative wrought iron in front of him with the secure feeling of knowing that he had just been paid a high compliment from a woman who did not part with them easily.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk knew Keith didn’t intend to remain in room service forever, so he’d appreciate the sight of him in that uniform while he still could. A white band collar shirt peeked out from under a grey mandarin collar jacket over pin-straight black trousers. With his lean physique and Snow White coloring, Keith made that uniform look downright debonair.

“And you say these dudes are here to check out Lance?” he asked as they rode up in the elevator. There was really no use hiding their business from Regris. The elevator operator overheard everybody’s gossip, it was his own occupational hazard.

“That’s my take on it,” Hunk confirmed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find out for sure.”

“I didn’t mean that in like, a spying kind of a way.”

Keith raised one eyebrow at Hunk in a ‘surely you jest’ look. Regris, that little shit, tried to smother a chuckle.

“Okay, so maybe I did, but don’t do anything dangerous, okay?”

Keith put a hand over his heart. “Moi?”

“Yes, you. I don’t want anything to happen to you just because I can’t keep my nose out of Shiro’s business.”

Keith grinned. It was a beautiful expression on a magnificent face, and it nearly made Hunk burp up all the Tums he’d eaten because he now knew that grin meant the potential for trouble.

“Don’t worry, I got this.”

“Oh boy.”

“Specialty Suites,” Regris announced as the elevator doors dinged open.

Hunk’s opportunity to be the voice of reason was just about gone. He would just have to give Shinji the ‘watchin u’ glare over Keith’s shoulder and then pull up the security feeds for this floor whenever he got back to his office.

Together, they pushed the room service cart down the floral carpeted hallway to the suite. In this configuration, the adjoining room had been unlocked so that it and the connecting hall could be added to the overall square footage of the suite. Hunk wondered who had claimed the smaller but more private extra room and got his answer when Shinji himself opened the connecting hall door.

“Oh splendid.” He was still boyishly handsome in that way older beta males sometimes had about them, looking travel-worn but otherwise in good cheer. Then he caught sight of Keith and his grin turned up a few watts. “Splendid indeed.”

“Ise-sama, I would like you to meet my betrothed, Keith.” He might have added a little extra oomph to the word ‘betrothed.’

“Oh.” Shinji turned it down a few notches but didn’t entirely lose his smile. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you regardless. Come on in!”

Hunk hovered over Keith as he wheeled the cart into the suite. Keith didn’t look offended at Hunk laying his claim so brazenly. If anything he looked amused, which was quite frankly worrisome because that implied he was still contemplating mischief.

They rolled past the wide open door to Shinji’s room and through the secondary entrance that became the primary entrance to the suite in the two bedroom configuration. Then they turned left and rolled past the partially-opened powder room door, before finally breaching the Governor Suite’s claim to fame, the sumptuously appointed great room with its wraparound terrace. Shinji’s room had a private living room and balcony, but it was modestly scaled compared to this one. Although, the view outside wasn’t much of a selling point on this particular day.

A red and cream area rug of soft wool pile provided the center focus of a room furnished with both comfort and style in mind. Facing the glass-enclosed fireplace was a tuxedo sofa upholstered in shantung that had to be dry-cleaned every time a guest checked out. It was flanked on one side by flannel-upholstered tub chairs and on the other by a modern minimalist dining set under a cluster pendant chandelier. Past the dining area, a closed door led into the room the bodyguard was probably using. The master bedroom suite, the most likely room for the omegas to have chosen for reasons of both luxury and security, was off an anteroom to the right.

Reclining on the leather fireside chair like a queen on a throne was a long, elegant omega of a certain age, the sort who would probably try to monopolize Keith’s time if Hunk didn’t make sure to lay down the law. As Shinji led them further into the room, a tall beta with short, wavy hair rose from the fireplace he’d just kindled to life. Must be the bodyguard. If ever there was weather suitable for using that fireplace for more than atmosphere it was the storm outside. 

The bodyguard moved to stand behind one of the tub chairs, in which sat a teenage omega who looked so much like Shiro that Hunk did a double take. This was surely Kuro, the little brother. They must both favor their father in looks, and that father must have been a ridiculously handsome man.

｢I question your judgment in bringing an alpha unannounced into my unclaimed child’s presence, Shinji-san.｣

Shiro’s stepmother was what they liked to call ‘a piece of work.’

｢It’s alright, Tatsuo-san. Garrett-san is promised to this beautiful omega you see before you, isn’t that right Garrett-san?｣

｢Ise-sama is correct. Gentlefolk, please allow me to introduce Kogane-san, my betrothed. He is going to be one of your room attendants during your stay with us.｣ Hunk offered a polite bow, and out of the corner of his eye caught Kuro begin to stand to return the gesture and his mother wave at him to sit back down.

“Oh, where have my manners flown?” Shinji switched back to English as he helped Keith maneuver the cart right next to the dining table. He gestured grandly at the company assembled in front of the fireplace. “This is Izu-san, who is in charge of security for Shirogane-kun here and his dear old mother.”

Hunk had to admire the cheek even as Shinji had just put them in the middle of whatever the hell was going on here. He and Keith exchanged sheepish bows with the now-named Izu while Tatsuo leveled a testy look at Shinji and poor Kuro just sat there looking confused.

｢We will require this omega’s assistance to draw my son a bath.｣ Tatsuo aimed this comment in Hunk’s direction, and Hunk wasn’t sure if that was because Keith was preoccupied with arranging the contents of the cart on the dining room table or if Tatsuo had missed the clue that Keith was as fluent in Nihongo as the rest of them, or if he was really just that affected. 

｢But Okaa-san!｣ Kuro looked longingly at the pizza now laid out on the table.

｢Surely your feast on the airplane while I was sleeping was enough to see you through until the evening meal.｣

Kuro’s bottom lip pooched out in an expression that Hunk would have never imagined ever appearing on Shiro’s face. Hunk’s stomach let out a quiet mrowl of sympathy. Or maybe that was just the heartburn threatening to reassert itself.

“Kuro-chan, I ordered this coffee drink for you.” Shinji held the saucer and cup in both hands as he lifted it off the cart and brought it over to where Kuro was sitting. “Don’t look so cross Tatsuo-san. Surely it is no trouble to anyone for him to drink it while his bath is being prepared. Look at the cute cat face someone drew in the foam! This should not go to waste.”

Tavo was a talented barista with a gift for latte art. It would indeed have been a shame for his work to go to waste, but thankfully Tatsuo let it go with a huff of annoyance and Kuro claimed his café latte with adorable glee. Hopefully the combo of cream, sugar and caffeine would keep the kid going until dinner time. Maybe it was different for omegas than for alphas, but Hunk recalled adolescence as being one long season of never feeling full.

Hunk helped Keith sort out the crystal punch cups and pitcher of fruit-garnished sangria and took advantage of the proximity to lean over and ask, “Will you be alright here?”

Keith smiled and tapped his chest, where Hunk knew he had his engagement ring secured on a ring holder necklace. “I’ll call you on the intercom if I need help. Go be Super Manager.”

Hunk made sure to let the whole room know when Farla would be coming on shift to relieve Keith before leaving the suite. He took the elevator back down to the lobby and that was when he was met with his next red alert of the day.

“Mister Lubos called and said his keynote speaker’s flight was canceled due to the weather. He wants to call the whole thing off!” 

Nadia Rizavi was a superb Assistant General Manger with the élan necessary to make it to the top, but she needed to work on her sang-froid.

“He’ll have to forfeit his deposit,” Hunk reminded her as they power-walked over to her office located on the same hall as his own. 

Lubos probably wouldn’t argue much about it either, since he’d no doubt keep the deposits he’d already collected for tickets and send those ticket holders some cheap consolation prize with some of his kooky inspirational quotes and his face plastered all over it. All told, Lubos would probably still be able to turn a small profit for not doing much. Hunk wasn’t inclined to waste any tears or violin music on him. Nadia already had the reservation pulled up on her computer monitor when they stepped behind her desk. 

“We shouldn’t have any trouble renting out the rooms through e-bookers,” Hunk mused as he looked over the information. 

Lubos, the cheapskate, had planned on stacking his event staff four to a room in Signature rooms by claiming some of them were under eighteen and basically daring the hotel staff to ask them how old they were. The event organizer had a beleaguered reputation among hospitality professionals across the greater SoCal area, but he also knew a lot of movers and shakers. If one of his events actually made it to fruition it could cement that hotel’s reputation for the rest of the season. It was even better when the hotel managed to poach some of his staff away from him. Lubos could pick ‘em but he wouldn’t demonstrate the loyalty necessary to keep them. 

In short, putting up with his nonsense short term could prove lucrative on a number of fronts for a hotel in the long term. However, since this event wasn’t going to happen, they needed to cut their losses. The Signature rooms would be snapped up like hotcakes at the price they’d go for now, not by tourists but by savvy business travelers. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the extent of the reservations Lubos had made.

“We’ll never get the ballroom rented for the same date with such a short turnaround,” Nadia wailed, “and catering has already ordered all that food and all of those people are going to lose their shifts!”

The reservations were for November first. With the holiday season closing in, staff members counted on any extra shifts they could pull to pad their paychecks. Losing a big one like this would hurt morale.

Unless...

“Sir?” Nadia looked up at Hunk’s extended silence. “What are you thinking of?”

“Either the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had,” Hunk said, “or the absolute dumbest.”

“What is it?”

Hunk realized abruptly that he’d better consult certain involved parties before calling this plan a go. “I’m going to have to discuss it with Keith first.”

But then Nadia squealed excitedly and Hunk knew she’d figured it out and now the whole damn hotel was going to know before the day shift was over.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith rolled up his sleeves and tested the water temperature on his wrist. Perfect. He put in the stopper to let the master bathroom’s deep soaking tub fill up and made sure the hotel toiletries were neatly lined up within easy reach of the bather. Some omega guests liked bubbles or mineral salts in the bath water, but they usually brought their own when that was the case and Keith hadn’t seen anything like that in the bath kit that someone had left on the vanity just outside of the soaking tub’s privacy-screened alcove. 

He checked the water level in the flower vases that stood on either side of the tub. Creamy blossoms of jewel amaryllis burst out of clean, fresh water, wafting the subtlest of delicate spicy floral scents when Keith tipped each vase to look in. Whoever had come in for turn-down had seen to the flowers too. Then Keith realized that some of that delicate, spicy floral scent was coming from behind him. 

He looked over his shoulder and there stood Kuro, shifting from one foot to the other and releasing more of that scent with every shuffle. Keith had only really spent one morning in the company of this omega’s older brother, but the resemblance was so startling, it was easy to see why his appearance had taken Hunk by surprise. Kuro had the dewy glow of a young omega, with shoulder-length hair as dark and glossy as a starling’s feathers, framing eyes of such a deep shade of brown that they looked black from even a short distance away. However, that dewy skin cushioned bone structure that looked remarkably like his older brother’s, with firm muscles over a well-formed frame that could have easily passed for beta if not for that delicate scent and the trace of smooth softness that was a gift of estrogen.

“I have to use the shower before I can get in the bath,” he said, with just a halting hint of an accent.

“Oh.” Keith checked the water level in the tub and found it full enough to step into comfortably. “Let me just get out of your way, then.” He turned off the faucet and pulled the thermal cover down over the top of the tub to retain the heat until Kuro was ready to use it.

Kuro shrugged and immediately started stripping off his rain-damp clothes. Okay, sooo... not body shy, then. Long experience at being around naked people kept Keith’s poker face intact. A glimpse in the vanity mirror as Keith was leaving revealed an athletically pretty body with nary a blemish to be seen anywhere. It also revealed Kuro hopping into the toilet alcove instead of the glassed-in shower.

The guy had to take a whizz and couldn’t use one of the other three toilets in this suite? Couldn’t even just tell another male omega he had to release the Kraken. What was going on with this family?

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance stood in the open door to his new office, surveying the narrow room with hands on hips. Shiro was still off somewhere with Mamá. There wasn’t any point dwelling on what Hunk had told him until he could dwell on it with the person it mainly concerned, so Lance was going to spend some of that wait time figuring out what he wanted to do with this room. With any luck he’d need it soon.

Its current function was as an unofficial storage room and it was fairly well organized for basically being an extra large junk drawer. Nary a mote of dust was disturbed by Lance moving about in the space. The lemony scent of cleaning solvents was pervasive. Haruka’s touch was definitely upon it. 

Lance pushed the muslin curtain aside to let in the daylight. A globe desk lamp and a filament bulb hanging from the ceiling added to the illumination cast upon crates full of knick-knacks, tote bags filled with needlepoint pillows and floating shelves packed with old paperback novels. A rolling library ladder leaned trackless against one wall, a cordless stick vacuum against the other. Framed and matted prints occupied every available scrap of wall that didn’t have something already leaning on it.

This wasn’t Lance’s first trip into this room. He’d sat in the vintage banker’s chair with his feet kicked up on the old wooden desk on previous afternoons, but this hadn’t been his office yet on those previous afternoons. Shiro’s office on the top floor had an urbane Nero Wolfe kind of flair, and Lance had found it comfortable enough to study and sit for his TASC test, but it wasn’t really his style. He was thinking less of dark woods and leather with richly colored fabrics and more of a soothing French blue with alabaster trimwork. Or maybe alabaster with French blue trimwork. Something that would reflect the sunlight coming in through the window without distracting Lance from all of the color swatches he anticipated that he would be looking at in here.

One thing was for sure. Some of this stuff was going to have to be stored elsewhere. He hoped Shiro wasn’t super-attached to any of it, although he thought he could save some of it with a paint job or a refinish. If the library ladder could be affixed to a track then the floating shelves could be extended, maybe...

“Hey, Lance, are you up here?”

Lance turned smiling in spite of his recent spate of nerves as Shiro approached him from the stair landing. He was easy on the eyes as always in a navy blue two-piece suit with a red tie. It was a bit of a departure from his usual palette of frost to charcoal, but a look he wore with immaculate confidence, as if he’d stepped off the tailor’s block that morning instead of stepping out with Lance’s mother to parts unknown.

“You found me.” Point to Shiro this time. Lance was trying to be generous with his score keeping. “You’re looking very corner office executive today.”

“I needed to project a certain kind of trustworthiness to a very particular audience,” Shiro explained as he leaned down to plant a quick kiss on Lance’s mouth.

“Oh?” Lance leaned into his space, taking in a deep breath of his resonant scent laced with traffic smells and a faint whiff of chamomile. “What did you and Mamá get up to that needed you to pull out a power suit?”

Shiro grinned mischievously. “It’s a surprise.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Lance worked his hands under the suit jacket and ño. Shiro had on Y-shaped suspenders under there and it was totally fucking doing it for Lance. “Please?”

“I promised your mother I wouldn’t ruin the reveal.”

Lance harrumphed, but he didn’t remove his hands from where they were possessively folded over the runner-ends in the dip of Shiro’s back. He knew Shiro was a man of his word, but he also knew his mother’s persuasive powers. There was a reason he hadn’t let so much as a clue drop when he’d planned to go looking for his father. If she had known, she would have waged a campaign to talk him out of it that might have succeeded. And if she decided she wanted to see him get married in a mountain of frills, she’d find a way to make it happen.

“Anyway.” Shiro returned the embrace, looking very pleased with himself. “I want to hear about your morning. Anything exciting happen?”

Lance winced in anticipation. “You could say that.” He had a sinking feeling this was going to put a damper on Shiro’s good mood. “Hunk called, and he wants you to call him back as soon as you get the chance.” 

“I’m not sure I want to know what it’s about if it puts a look like that on your face.” Shiro frowned. “Did something happen to his friends? Shay and Allura?”

“No,” Lance rushed to reassure him, “they’re fine.

Shiro looked even more concerned. “Honey, did something happen to Keith?”

“No, Shiro.” Lance sighed. Bite the bullet. “Hunk said your family checked into the hotel today and he wanted to make sure you knew they were in the country.”

“My family.” Shiro looked dumbfounded as he thought that one over, then breathed out in relief. “He must mean Shinji. He comes out this way to meet with promoters, and he did say he wanted to meet you when I told him about you. Don’t worry, I think you two will get along fine.”

“Hunk mentioned Shinji.” Lance bit his lip. “He also mentioned Kuro.”

“Kuro?” Shiro’s face contorted into a picture that could be used to describe ‘cognitive dissonance’ in the dictionary. “That can’t be right. He never goes anywhere without my stepmother, he’s barely seventeen and he’s led a very sheltered life, especially since presenting.”

Lance just held Shiro loosely in his arms, waiting for the obvious to hit him, ready to support him when it did.

Shiro tittered a laugh of disbelief. “Lance, can you imagine it? He never goes anywhere without... Dargh!”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“There’s something weird going on with that family in the Governor Suite,” Keith said as he let himself into Hunk’s office with the leftovers they’d packed for lunch.

“What makes you say that?” Hunk asked as he retrieved two cans of Red Pop from his office mini-fridge.

“The kid acts a lot younger than he looks.” Keith put the leftover containers in the small microwave and pushed the reheat button. “Like he has to ask permission for everything, and I think he’s only a few years younger than I am. It’s kinda strange.”

Hunk graced Keith with a gentle smile as he passed him an opened can of soft drink. “Not everyone had to grow up as fast as you did.”

“Even so.” Keith tipped his head back for a long drink of mystery berry flavor. Mmm, delicious. He smacked his lips. “I was never afraid of smarting off at Akane the way that kid acts scared of his mom.”

Akane had always possessed an uncompromising temperament, but Keith gave as good as he got, and he was sure Akane respected him for that even when she was furious at him. And Akane was a stereotypical bullheaded alpha prime!

An uncomfortable possibility sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. “Are omega moms all secretly scary?” Keith barely remembered his time with his own mom, but Hunk had grown up with one. If Keith had a scary surprise coming his way courtesy of his reunion with his own mother, Hunk might be able to give him the heads up.

Hunk shook his head. “Not any more than any other moms. If you say Kuro is scared of his mom, then something weird is probably going on.”

The phone on Hunk’s desk rang at the same time as the microwave beeped.

“Oh, finally,” Hunk said as he read the caller ID, “maybe we’ll get some answers.” He put it on speaker while Keith sorted out the food. “Shiro! I am so glad you called me back.”

_“Hey Hunk, Leifsdottir just told me you guys have saved the date, congratulations!”_

“Um.” Hunk met Keith’s sudden stare across the desk like a deer facing a cougar unexpectedly on a mountain trail. “That... that was meant to be a tentative date. ‘Cause... there are certain things that need to be discussed before we firm that up.”

Damn straight there were things to discuss, like why in the hell Keith seemed to be the last person who knew about this. Keith hoped his eyes were conveying how much trouble Hunk was in if he did not have a solid explanation.

_“I understand, unexpected things come up all the time, what are you going to do?”_ Shiro sounded like he was holding onto his composure by his fingernails. _“That’s um, that’s kind of why I called actually. Lance told me Shinji and Kuro are there? Are you sure it’s Kuro? Really really sure?”_

“Is he a teenage kid who looks like you,” Keith broke in on the conversation, “has a scary-ass mom, drinks a lot of coffee, and might be utsudere?”

_“I always pegged him as more of an oujidere,”_ Shiro replied, _“and I never knew him to be much of a coffee drinker, but you got the rest of it dead to rights. Is the scary-ass mom there too?”_

“Oh yeah.”

_“Great. Fabulous. Guys, please let us know if the wedding is still on for November first, we can be in town by the weekend if you need us. Lance and Haruka are both so excited to witness your big day. I’ve got to go now and call Shinji, and ask him if he needs me to have him committed.”_

They made their farewells and then Keith rounded on his hapless fiancé. “November first?!”

“Honey I’m so sorry it’s just this asshole event planner canceled his reservations last minute and they included the ballroom and a bunch of people were going to lose their shifts and I thought to myself ‘hey we were thinking of using the ballroom, what if we pick up that reservation’ and I never meant for Rizavi to figure it out but she did and once that happened it was a matter of time before the whole hotel knew.”

Keith took a second to parse through that run-on explanation and yeah, he could see it going down like that. “It’s alright babe, I know you didn’t mean to jump the gun.”

“Honestly, I wanted to run this by you before committing to anything. After Rizavi told me what happened it just suddenly occurred to me that we could get the ballroom for a great price and save all those people’s shifts. There’s also a bunch of open invoices from partner vendors that we could actually use ourselves if we took over their contracts. Less legwork for us. I was going to bring it up over lunch, but the hotel gossip network got ahead of me. Now that you know, what do you think?”

Keith thought about it. With their original ‘anything goes’ wedding plan they’d anticipated having a month or two to work out the details. If they committed to November first then they only had eight days to pull it off. Even with a lot of the logistics already in motion courtesy of the flaky event planner, that still wasn’t much time to ask guests to make travel arrangements, and their own honeymoon would probably have to be delayed.

On the other hand, that also wasn’t a lot of time for Akane to choreograph an elaborate dance routine or...

“What are the odds it’ll be too late to get me fitted for a bunch of kimono if we go ahead and commit to November first?”

Hunk looked sidelong at the wall in what Keith now knew was a conversational evasive maneuver when coming from him. “Now that you mention wedding clothes, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro paced the carpet-strewn floor of his home office, his view switching from the spindly branches of the cherry tree’s bare canopy just visible above the windowsill to the fretwork mirrors placed at various Haruka-endorsed spots above the wooden wainscoting.

“I can’t host them here, Shinji, I’ve got a houseful of in-laws.” He was using the landline with his hands-free earpiece, the better to pace without one arm going numb. “You should have called me first.”

_“If you cannot put them up in your home, then you must come here to us.”_ Shinji was proving uncharacteristically intractable about this unasked-for visit. _“You must come here and see what has become of your otōto-san.”_

“What are you talking about, Tatsuo dotes on him like a kitten.” Shiro’s stepmother had always thought that there was one perfect child in all the world, and that child was Kuro.

_“That was before Kuro presented, and then Ryu died. Tatsuo’s grasp on reality began to slip. I thought he would stabilize once he realized there was work to be done planning for Kuro’s coming of age ceremony, but he has only grown worse.”_

Shiro flopped down on the leather easy chair facing his desk. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

_“You are the head of the household now,”_ Shinji reminded him. _“Act like it. Come here and assess your little brother’s condition for yourself. If he needs to be removed from Tatsuo’s care you are the only one who can do it.”_

Wasn’t that a joyful prospect. Shiro leaned forward with his head in his hands. On the desk in front of him, his cell phone’s screen flashed with an alert that he had one new email from a priority sender. Shiro reached over and tapped it. A ‘save the date’ invitation fluttered open, with an animated firefly ‘skywriting’ the event details across the screen. It was a pretty effect that momentarily distracted him from his cousin waiting for his answer. Then Shiro saw what the date was and grinned in relief.

“We’ll be out there in time to join you for dinner on Saturday, Shinji, can you hang tight until then?”

_“I know what to do to make sure Tatsuo stays put until then,”_ Shinji replied, which Shiro took to mean that he intended to resort to trickery. _“You just prepare yourself for what you are going to find. Kuro is not so much the brat that you remember anymore.”_

Shiro felt dread begin to pool in the pit of his stomach.

_“I’m not saying that he isn’t a brat at all, just not the same kind of brat as before.”_

...okay then.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“You coddle him unnecessarily.” Zarkon stared broodily out of the leaded glass window of his drawing room, a nosing glass of his favorite Scotch whiskey in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his velvet smoking jacket.

_“Everyone wants to marry Heathcliff, my dear,”_ Honerva’s mother had warned her the night she’d brought Zarkon home to meet her, _“but the problem with that is, Heathcliff is an ass.”_

Of course, if Honerva had listened to her mother, she wouldn’t have Lotor. Silver linings. At least she’d had the good sense not to let Zarkon lay a claim mark on her. What a sticky wicket she’d be in now if she had.

“He is our son,” she reminded her ex-husband. “He deserves support from you for that at the very least.”

“At the very least,” Zarkon sneered, “he deserves a kick up the backside. Gambling away all of that money so that he has to resort to embezzling from his own firm. Grandfather would have disowned him.” Undoubtedly true. “Pappous would have thrashed him.” That was getting a little extreme.

“Meanwhile, you have decided to allow forensic accountants unimpeded access to records from Lotor’s trust fund account.” Honerva stepped away from the blazing fireplace. “You know they’re likely to confiscate the funds.”

“They will also discover that I did not knowingly abet a scofflaw.” Zarkon turned from the window to let his ex-wife see the arch smile on his chiseled face. “The Manigford legacy will remain unsullied.”

“By throwing your only heir under the bus!” Honerva could not believe the gall. “How does that help protect your family’s legacy?”

“I still have time to make another one.”

Honerva tossed the Scotch out of her glass at Zarkon’s face and scored a direct hit. Zarkon looked down his front dispassionately as the whiskey dribbled onto his shawl collar lapels.

“I’ll send you the dry cleaning bill,” he promised.

“You do that.” Honerva stalked towards the foyer with its vaulted ceiling spackled in appliques and flying crown molding. Zarkon might prefer not to acknowledge it, but Lotor was his son to the very core. Their shared taste in overly florid home decor was just one proof. “I’ll see myself out.”

She’d have her own accountants go over the bill with a fine tooth comb to make sure he wasn’t bilking her on it. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford an expensive dry cleaning bill. Not only was she well-compensated as a research scientist but she was also from old money herself, Philadelphia Main Line.

It was just the principal of the thing.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lotor skimmed through the binder containing the master lists which his mother’s employees had compiled for his approval. He had decided to accomplish this task while sitting at the formal dining table on the second floor to get a feel for the location where his party was going to be held. The interior decoration, while sophisticated, was much more to his mother’s tastes than his own, done up in the shades of cyan and cream that she favored and largely eschewing natural fabrics for lab created super-textiles. Sometimes one must work with what one had.

Three of the four floors of the row house were equipped with a galley kitchen, so there would be no shortage of space to prepare food for approximately seventy of his mother’s acolytes. The second floor facilities also included the requisite powder room, along with a formal dining room, living room and parlor all separated by pocket doors that could be used to open up the space or close it for privacy at will. Since this was supposed to be an informal gathering, he was of a mind to leave the dining room and living room completely open and half-close off the parlor as a refuge for guests in their cups.

It wouldn’t be one of Lotor’s parties without generous servings of libations, and if those plebs had neglected to include a list for that he’d supply one himself and demand its inclusion.

Scanning the lists, he found Narti’s contributions to be as perfunctory as the woman herself. Well, no matter, it wasn’t as if this were a themed party. Although, how fun would that be? But no, there was no time. Narti’s lists, quotidian as they were, would have to pass muster. Moving on.

Acxa’s lists showed a great deal more initiative. Say whatever else he could about his erstwhile wife, she had style for days when she could be bothered to show it. She’d certainly bothered when she’d seduced him. Lotor’s gut churned with indignation at knowing he’d been had. He took vicious pleasure out of marking up her stylish lists with red ink, until he got to the guest list, and sighed. Most of these people he hardly knew well enough to reject them. Might as well approve the lot.

Something jingled. Lotor looked up. There, it jingled again, a tinny generic ringtone. It was coming from the uncanny blown glass sculpture serving as the centerpiece on the dining table, the only thing in the room that wasn’t a quaternary color. It was screaming red, like blood splatter trying to defy gravity. Why in the hell his mother thought that was a suitable bibelot for a place where one served food Lotor would never understand. 

He set the binder down on the lacquered tabletop, stood from his padded side chair and peered into the center of the sculpture, the tendrils of which swirled upward like a parody of a vase. There, cupped in its entrailesque embrace, sat his mother’s cell phone. Not the hardened smartphone that she carried with her everywhere. It was the cheap little candybar phone she used to collect messages from people she didn’t want to actually speak with. The phone’s display showed one brand new message waiting.

Wasn’t this just ducky! Grinning, Lotor fished the phone out of its spun glass prison. This was a much better use of his time than inspecting the works of mendacity. This phone didn’t have any passwords on it, Honerva only used it as a decoy number to give to blowhards and had the voice mail and SMS set to auto-delete daily. Accessing the waiting voice mail was as easy as accessing the menu. The voice mail started with a man in mid-rant, too eager to vent his spleen to wait for the beep.

“–that you have insulted the members of the mess committee for the last time, after all the hard work the men and women of the Garrison Benelux put in to make your speech happen, only for you to take a flit, I will make sure that your reputation is tarred and feathered from here to kingdom come, and I have already started by telling that young buck Lieutenant Kinkade about your callous manners, I’m sure he’ll remember what I told him and carry news of your misdeeds back with him when he returns to Fort MacArthur and his omega seemed really interested in what I had to say too–” beep

Well, now. Kinkade was billeted at the garrison in Walloon from the sound of it, with his omega in tow. What a lucky coincidence for Lotor to be sitting right here when that message came through.

Lotor didn’t believe in coincidences. He pulled out the guest list and made sure there was room on it for two more.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
When he’d suggested to Haruka that he’d like to arrange to have tea with her, Shiro hadn’t expected her to drop everything to prepare tea right that very minute. He supposed it was alright though, since it was his own name on the company letterhead. If he needed to delay going into the office by another couple of hours to take care of something important he need only answer to himself for that, and he needn’t worry about explaining the change in schedule to his driver, since he lived there too.

As Shiro did not require the car right away, he decided to send Kai off with Vibiana to the fabric store and then to the condo to drop off her purchases. Rachel and Marco had already left in a taxi with Darrell to help him select remembrance jewelry for Vibiana and Lance, which was supposed to be a surprise but Shiro had a feeling that Lance was the only one who was going to be truly surprised. He was learning that Vibiana was a woman who didn’t let much get past her. Lance was currently distracted in his office with a measuring tape and a notepad and hopefully wouldn’t notice his mother was gone again until she walked back in the door. After being reassured that Shiro meant no harm to his wife, Kai had undertaken his assigned mission.

Now Shiro was undertaking his own. If this had been a planned event, they would have been enjoying the back garden with their tea, but as it was spur of the moment and the back garden was a shared household space, Haruka had invited him into her own living room. She must be at least partially aware of the reason for his visit, to want to ensure an atmosphere conducive to confidentiality. Shiro did not often enter the garden apartment because, despite it being on his property, he respected the Shinobus’ privacy. 

Aside from a closed-off bathroom, the apartment had been laid out with an open floor plan, but the Shinobus had screened off their bedroom area with shoji sliding doors. The garden floor foyer served as the entryway, with a shoe cupboard placed outside the apartment’s front door in which Shiro had left his leather Oxfords. He could see the apartment’s tidy kitchen from where he was sitting, and Haruka puttering there with her hobnail teapot, as she’d manifestly decided the occasion required more solemnity than could be accomplished with her electric water boiler. 

Shiro, as an honored guest, had been offered the low lounge chair nearest the door. If he were to turn his head he could see the small raised alcove where the Shinobus had displayed scroll art of Japanese maples and a shallow pottery container piled with sazanka blooms pruned from the garden. However, it would have been a little weird of him to sit there with his head cocked staring at it before being invited to appreciate it, so instead he let his eyes rest on the fireplace, one of several in the brownstone boasting lovingly restored marble surrounds and carved wooden mantels. Haruka had placed a wall mirror above it to reflect light from the tall floor lamps back into the room, brightening the entire space.

Shiro nibbled on a mooncake Haruka had picked up during one of her excursions into Chinatown. Once she’d gotten over her fears and acclimated to Manhattan she’d become peripatetic in her quest to ensure the household was always well-stocked with necessities. The red bean paste filling of the cake was toothsome, and auspicious for weddings. He remembered that much from his father’s yuino and wedding banquet.

No sooner had he swallowed the last morsel of the mooncake than Haruka, ever observant, set down a round tray bearing the accouterments for tea on one of three end tables she had unstacked and set before him earlier. Next to the tray she placed a potholder and the kettle, and next to that the kensui bowl. “Please allow me to make you a bowl of tea,” she said with a bow.

Shiro returned the respectful gesture and then watched her gracefully wipe down the contents of the tray with a red silk cloth, after which she carefully inspected her utensils before warming the chawan bowl with hot water from the kettle. It had been a long time since he’d taken tea with this degree of ceremony, and most likely just as long since Haruka had hosted, so he relaxed and allowed himself to sink into a meditative trance as he watched her proceed to clean the warmed and emptied chawan bowl with a linen cloth, then scoop green powder from the tea caddy and whisk it in the same bowl with more hot water. The fine particles and fresh green color and scent indicated it to be high quality matcha. Shiro felt humbled that she would share her stash with him when sencha would have been as appropriate for a surprise visit like this.

“Thank you for making tea,” Shiro said as he accepted the chawan bowl, which he raised to show his appreciation and then rotated to drink from the opposite side. He took his first sip of the thick green tea. It hit that mysterious balance point between honeyed and umami, the perfect counter to the sweets he had just eaten. 

“How is the tea?” Haruka asked.

“It is delicious,” Shiro said honestly, then respectfully wiped the rim of the bowl with a napkin before offering it back to Haruka.

They continued with the ritual for sharing the bowl. A polite conversation ensued in which Shiro learned that they were drinking ceremonial grade matcha purchased from Haruka’s favorite tea purveyor in Chinatown. It was to be the last of that jar, a fond farewell in preparation for opening a new jar the following month. It seemed that Haruka was preparing herself mentally for the inevitability of change, which Shiro considered an encouraging sign.

After the first bowl was finished, Haruka invited Shiro to take a closer look at anything in the room and answered his polite questions as she cleansed her materials to make them a second bowl of thinner foamy tea. Now it was time for the formality of their conversation to relax; time to introduce the subject which had brought him to her door.

“Thank you very much for sharing tea with me,” Shiro said. “You are one of the pillars who holds up my house.”

“Your words are too kind.” Haruka looked embarrassed at the praise. “It is my pleasure to share tea with an honorable man.”

“Now you are being too kind.” Shiro took in the autumnal decor again. “The falling leaves are beautiful and timely. They show that change can arrive swiftly but settle into place slowly.”

“The path of love is swift as well, and tireless. This I know, as does my husband.” Haruka smiled plainly. “We would not wish to leave you without travel companions.”

“It is my hope that we will all walk toward our destinies together, and that our respective families will remain close enough to carry each other along the way.”

Haruka nodded. “Then I shall adopt that hope as my own.”

Shiro felt a lightness take hold of him, similar to what he’d felt leaning against warm bricks earlier in the day. He could do this. They could do this. It didn’t matter what his stepmother had to say about his match because he already had the blessings of the family members whose opinions truly mattered to him.


	5. The Finer Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is not getting out of being fitted for wedding clothes. Lance has his first day of class. Ryan Kinkade gets an invitation and he is not happy about it. Lots of people have phone and chat conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for the kudos and comments, I appreciate you guys so much!

  
Lance had persuaded Kai into dropping him off and picking him up near the subway station closest to Oriande. That would be the subway station he’d be using regularly if he succeeded in gaining entry to the school as a regular student, so he might as well get acclimated to the walk now. Kai saw the sense in him memorizing the location of the station and agreed that what Shiro didn’t discover wouldn’t cause him any undue distress. The fact that there was a police station right next to the subway station didn’t really factor into Lance’s estimation of this spot as ideal for his commute, but it had for Kai and so he knew it would be helpful information when it came time to bring Shiro around to the notion of him using the subway unescorted. 

He hadn’t told Kai this, but he’d already walked to the 86th Street Station from the house a few times during his exploratory strolls, just to get the lay of the land. He’d spoofed his phone’s GPS into showing him within Shiro’s notion of a safety zone, which he hoped would only be a temporary measure. Gaining Kai’s assistance and Shiro’s permission to take the road test for his driver’s license was one thing. Getting them both on board with the idea of him taking subway trains alongside hundreds of strangers was quite another, but he meant to try.

He’d planned his wardrobe for this day carefully, trying to convince himself he wasn’t acting like it was his first day of secondary school. There was no uniform, this was just practical stuff. Romelle had warned him against wearing anything that could accidentally get tangled up in a curling iron or other tools of the trade, but to be mindful that he might be on his feet for several hours at a stretch. Lance had also noticed during his previous visit that nearly everyone, students and teachers alike, seemed to be wearing black or grey, so he’d gone with black stretchy jeans, black sneakers, and a grey waffle knit sweater that he could push up on his forearms if he needed to. 

He’d kept his hair and makeup understated and left his jewelry at home. He knew there was a cosmetology kit waiting for him at his destination because it had been on his itemized receipt, but he had no idea if the students were going to be practicing anything on each other or not.

Lance walked past the dark green subway railing with its iconic globes, and the stairs leading down to the underground train with lines of pedestrians filing in and out. He joined the crowd striding along sidewalks encircled by tall buildings, and sparser foliage than on the streets of his own neighborhood. The smells and sounds of traffic were more intense outside of the precision-tuned quiet of the Rolls-Royce. Lance surfed the wave of people rushing over crosswalks until he stood in front of the glass doors to Oriande.

The front of the school visible from the street was given over to the salon, where advanced students could do their practicum under instructor supervision. Lance could see them in there, artfully twirling hair with shears and turning customers around to look at themselves in mirrors. Several people sat under giant hooded hair dryers. One guy appeared to be napping in a chair with cucumbers over his eyes.

A young woman sporting a green pixie cut and an all-black ensemble stepped in front of Lance to open the door. She looked over her shoulder at him. “You coming in, or what?”

“I’m coming in.” Lance grabbed the door handle and followed her inside.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shinji paced the soft cream carpet of his private room in his stocking feet, phone to his ear. He did not have to manufacture his irritation because he’d just had an infuriating conversation with young Kuro in which he’d had to explain that it was perfectly fine for him to use his bathroom whenever Tatsuo was hogging the other one, because Shinji was family and therefore it was not inappropriate. He knew Tatsuo would give the kid grief if he caught him in either of the bathrooms that Izu Tasuku used. Poor, long-suffering, loyal Izu.

“You are telling me that the only flight that you can arrange from LAX with a privacy suite in first class is stopping in Las Vegas?” If it were just Shinji he wouldn’t have any problem with a long layover in Vegas, but it wasn’t just Shinji and frankly, this fit into his plans perfectly.

“Our partner’s first class seats on the connecting flight from Vegas to JFK are very spacious, Ise-sama,” the agent tried to assure him.

While Shinji was certain they would be adequately comfortable if it were just himself, Tatsuo would throw a fit if he couldn’t put up a privacy screen, and why tolerate one of his fits when Shinji didn’t want him going anywhere in the first place?

“I am afraid it simply will not do, ējento-san. Continue your search for seats comparable to those we arrived on. Take your time if you must. Do not bother Shirogane-san with the particulars, call me when you find something. It may be that we simply return to Nippon from here, and if that turns out to be the case we would appreciate Izu-san being upgraded to business class.”

The ticket agent reassured Shinji that his wishes would be carried out. Good. Now Shinji only had to think of activities with which to entertain Kuro and keep Tatsuo distracted until Shiro’s arrival on Saturday. Something that would account for the currently changeable weather and also satisfy Izu’s standards for seeing to their safety. 

No pressure.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith slouched on the chaise lounge with his cup of coffee, looking up over the roof at red clouds feathering across a lavender sky. He liked being outside in general, but especially on rare days like this, when the salty cool breeze promised rain that might yet blow over. He was on call but unlikely to be called in to deal with anything today unless one of the omega guests became exceptionally fussy. This was a day for lounging around in tee-shirts, joggers and Velcro sneakers on the back patio where he could easily look into Hunk’s bedroom window just by turning his head.

Hunk had burnout curtains on his window. From this close Keith could see right past them into a bright and airy bedroom filled with large pillowy furniture and thriving houseplants. Soon, sooner than either of them had actually anticipated, he would move into that bedroom, and the other bedroom would probably go back to being a home office.

Of course, Keith had been in Hunk’s bedroom before, it wasn’t like it was forbidden territory or anything. They had whiled away some very pleasant afternoons in there, and Keith smiled at the memory. It’s just, Hunk had some romantic notion about saving the main event for their wedding night, and so far Keith had not been able to sway him from this conviction in spite of his very reasonable counter-arguments.

_“You know what my dick tastes like.”_

_“And you’ve seen me naked. That’s not really the point, Keith.”_

_“I’m not some blushing virgin, you know.”_

_“Again, not the point.”_

The fact that Keith now had a specific date and that date was coming up fast only took a little of the edge off. He’d considered asking Lance for some advice, since he knew that he was getting laid left, right and center, but upon reflection realized that Lance’s situation was different. Shiro had been a paying customer at one point and neither of them could pretend that hadn’t happened. Besides, Lance was in class right now so it wasn’t a good time to be blowing up his phone. 

The sound of voices outside the privacy fence brought Keith out of his state of rumination.

“– think we should have called first?”

“Nah, he’s awake, trust me. Even when he’s been up all night he doesn’t like missing the sunrise.”

Krolia and Akane were out there. They must have tried knocking on the front door and come around to the back when nobody answered. This better not be a plan to stuff him in the back of Akane’s 2+2 and make him shop for clothes. Keith set aside his now-empty coffee cup, heaved himself up off the chaise lounge, and sidled around the gas grill to open the back gate. There they were, traipsing through the side yard, and Klaatu help him, Akane was dressed for shopping in her red coat, walking boots and giant hobo bag.

“Hey,” he said with noncommittal cool, laying down the first challenge.

“Hey, you’re dressed!” Akane answered the challenge with a chipper feint. “Lock up and let’s go!”

“Go where?” Keith folded his arms obstinately.

Akane matched him stare for stony stare. “Since you went and moved up the timetable of your wedding, we’ve got to secure your kimono order today. You’ve hardly even given me time to fold cranes. At least you picked a Tomobiki day to get married, I don’t know what we’d do if you’d gone and picked Butsumetsu.”

She could not be serious. 

“There is no way I have time to get kimono made in just a week. And anyway, Hunk’s mom wants me to wear her grandma’s gown.” 

“You can wear that after the blessing, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Keith was getting married and Akane was the bridezilla. If she ever got married he would make sure to pay her back in kind.

“I’m not even dressed for shopping.” He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he couldn’t just back down. If he did, it would set a precedent that Akane would take advantage of for the rest of the wedding planning.

“You look fine, we’re going to J-town not Buckingham Palace.”

“We can stop for Imagawayaki,” Krolia said, offering a smile. “Just like we used to, do you remember?”

All at once, he did. As if the memory had been waiting for his mother to activate it, Keith remembered looking in the glass window when he was barely tall enough to see inside without standing on tiptoes. He remembered watching the lady rapidly filling the dough pans from a nozzle, not spilling a single drop, then turning sweet red paste onto half of them, then flipping the cakes together with chopsticks. But mostly he remembered that moment when they went inside and Mom gave him a paper sleeve with a steaming hot cake for his very own.

“Okay,” he said, turning to lock the gate behind him, “let’s go.”

Behind him he heard Akane hiss, “Did you really just change his mind by offering him sweets?” and his mother murmur back, “Did it really never occur to you to try that yourself?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro leaned forward across his desk for a closer look at the two lockets Darrell had set there for his perusal. Both were impressively worked stainless steel; Vibiana’s a heart with a chip of blue chalcedony set in the center, Lance’s an egg shape with an agate cameo depicting a lily unfurling. Both contained inner compartments designed so that some of Charles McClain’s ashes could be interred therein.

“You can actually get jewelry made with the ashes spun into glass,” Darrell said, “but I wanted Bibi and Lance to have the option of scattering or re-interring later if they feel called to do it.”

Since this was going to be a surprise for them, that was eminently sensible. Darrell always thought ahead. Shiro was glad he’d talked the man into joining his enterprise.

“You selected beautiful pieces,” Shiro said. “What sort of memorial service do you have in mind?”

“I intend to ask Bibi about that.” Darrell sighed and sat back in the vinyl padded guest chair. “I have a feeling she’ll want him close to her and I know that’s what he would have wanted. There are a lot of different options she could choose from in Miami.”

“Whatever she chooses, we’ll be there for support.” 

Shiro hesitated over his next question. It was not his business, and yet at the same time it was. Not, in that it concerned the last days of a man he’d never met and an investigation into his death being conducted by another who’d begun his quest before he’d ever been on Shiro’s payroll. Was, in that it was important to Shiro’s own betrothed and therefore Shiro was personally invested in the outcome.

“If you’re wondering what I’ve found out about Chip, I’m afraid it’s not conclusive yet,” Darrell said, gaze withdrawn. “Every question answered just leads to another question. Given his background and his activities just prior to his death, I’m inclined to believe he was acting undercover, but for which agency I’m still not sure.”

A cold shock wound up Shiro’s spine. “Wouldn’t they have claimed his body if he was killed in the line of duty?” 

“I think he may have been recruited because he was perceived as having no earthly ties.” Darrell drummed his fingers on the arm of the guest chair and looked up at Shiro with a serious mien. “I also think it would be best for Lance if I kept this inquiry on my own dime and time.”

Shiro understood and agreed with his impulse to protect Lance from any repercussions of stirring up trouble they could barely glimpse, but he also knew Lance would be devastated if anything happened to Darrell. “Don’t be a martyr.”

Darrell offered a wry smile. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The special occasion styling class was held in a classroom with long tables in rows and a huge whiteboard at the head of the room. Lance had been given his kit in a large nylon shoulder bag and then given free reign to sit wherever he wanted. He noticed that the regular students, identifiable by their black shirts with the Oriande logo on them, had clumped together in the center of the middle row table, so he wandered to the front and sat down next to a fellow omega wearing a green cardigan and her hair in double buns. He figured if he didn’t know anybody to sit next to then he might as well sit close to the teacher.

That teacher turned out to be Romelle herself. “Good morning, class,” she said as she walked in, and then proceeded to call attendance, along with an ice breaker exercise where the person called upon shared the special occasion where they hoped to apply what they were going to learn. A lot of students were either honor attendants at upcoming functions, or they were budding professionals looking forward to taking on clients during Winter Formal season. 

Moontow, the omega sitting next to Lance, planned to do her little sister’s hair and makeup for her bat mitzvah. Twyla, the green-haired beta who’d opened the door, said she intended to “confront the preconceived notions of formal hairstyles by interrogating who the formal hairstyle is actually for.” Romelle just nodded and marked her roll book. Apparently this was not an outrageous statement coming from Twyla, or maybe Romelle was just that chill. Or maybe both.

All of the sudden it was Lance’s turn and if he’d known he needed to write a speech he would have prepared, but as he was on the spot he just stood up and started running his mouth.

“Hey everybody! The name’s Lance, but you already knew that, haha! Um, anyway my best friend is getting married next week and his hair has more cowlicks than a barn full of Holsteins,” somebody please stop him, “and he always appreciates it when I fix his hair, so I want to improve my skills in case he needs help.” Then he waved like he was a homecoming queen or something, and sat down before he could embarrass himself any further. Whew, that was over. Lance liked being the center of attention, but he preferred to be prepared for it beforehand.

“Thank you, Lance.” Romelle had a small smile on her face, so he must not have made too much of a fool of himself.

That was when Lance realized something rather important. There were weddings coming up in his very near future at which he might have to give toasts. He’d probably better prepare for that.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“I don’t see why I have to wear a wig.” Keith sat up straight in the chair but kept his arms folded to signify his grumpitude. His face felt tight from how thoroughly his real hair had been tied down with gauze and cloth.

Much to his chagrin, the kimono shop where Akane made inquiries had wedding raiments available to rent on short notice. Akane and Krolia were both being fitted for formal accouterments while Keith sat enduring this wig fitting which wasn’t even the last fitting he was going to have to deal with before they finally got to visit the café.

“It is because you do not have nearly enough hair to bind it in a bridal coiffure.” Mrs. Suzuishi adjusted the heavy wig on his head again. “Anyway you should be thankful. The wig is faster to put on and nobody will be pulling your hair to put oil or wax in it.”

As if she hadn’t already been pulling on his scalp. “Couldn’t I just wear kanzashi?” During his senior year of high school his classmates who’d gone ahead and tied the knot would pass around their wedding photos, and in most of them they were wearing kanzashi ornaments in their hair.

Their real hair growing from their actual heads.

“You will be wearing kanzashi in the shimada wig. Look here.” Mrs. Suzuishi suddenly thrust a mirror in front of Keith’s face so that he could see how he looked in the wig.

Keith gaped at his reflection in astonishment. His features were completely transformed by the illusion that his widow’s peak was lower on his forehead, making his eyes stand out like morning glories. Ornaments secured within wide rolls of glossy black hair caught amber light with each movement of his head.

“Very attractive, yes?” Mrs. Suzuishi smiled in the mirror over Keith’s shoulder. “Now, which headdress would you prefer to hide your horns of anger?”

And just like that, Keith was grumpy again.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_“You know, you would look very dignified in montsuki.”_

Shiro, who had called home to check on Haruka’s progress at securing four first class seats on a coast-to-coast flight for Saturday, grimaced. “Gaining access to heirloom garments with the family crest on them might be easier said than done.” 

He would have to pry them out of his stepmother’s covetous grasp, assuming he wanted to wear them in the first place. He had less than fond memories of watching his own father wearing those garments as he married Tatsuo.

“Besides, Lance’s mother is making his wedding frock and I have no idea what that’s going to look like yet.”

_“I do,”_ Haruka supplied helpfully. She had been put in charge of arranging deliveries to the condo. _“The design she chose would not look discordant alongside montsuki. It is not that uncommon to see mixed tradition weddings these days.”_

Shiro decided that finding a definitive answer to Haruka’s suggestion should be future-Shiro’s problem. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

_“All right then, consider it, but you would look very dignified.”_

Shiro considered that maybe he better resign himself to finding kimono catalogs left casually on couches and table tops for the next while. 

_“Have you considered omiyage yet? If we do not go out to find it soon we may have to resort to the stamps.”_

Haruka kept commemorative stamps on hand as a go-to present for her family, and for Kai’s, who were all collectors. Shiro’s family were not stamp collectors and were therefore liable to consider a gift of foreign stamps to be a bit eccentric.

“How about we get our gifts from the airport gift shops?” Shiro suggested, eager to put off thinking about Tatsuo for as long as possible. “It’s traditional, isn’t it?”

It was traditional in Japan. Where there were gift shops at major transportation hubs selling tastefully-wrapped gifts expressly for the purpose of omiyage. U.S. transportation hubs also frequently had souvenir shops, but traditionally those gifts were shamelessly cheesy. Shiro could feel Haruka silently judging him through the phone.

_“I will investigate the gift shops at our departure gate to ensure they are sufficient for our needs. We cannot give them foam fingers saying “I Love New York,” they will not find it amusing.”_

“Of course not.” Shinji would probably find it amusing, but they might not be allowed on the plane carrying those things.

Shiro thanked Haruka for her valiant attempts to keep his life from descending into utter chaos and then dialed the next call on his agenda. As he waited on the line, he glanced at his computer monitor. The sleep screen had come up, reflecting a glimmer of his own face back to him.

_“Hey, Shiro!”_ Hunk sounded cheerful almost to the point of manic. _“We got your RSVP and we’ve got you booked for the Penthouse Suite, four adults for seven nights! I’m going to be a married man before you guys leave, ha ha! Sorry, I’m just– hey, um, your housekeeper sent me a list of groceries to stock the fridge, I can run down the inventory for you if you’d like.”_

“That’s fine, Hunk, I trust Haruka’s judgment.” In most matters, as long as those matters did not require him to allow his stepmother into his mental space. One item handled, several more to go, but speaking of people with good judgment. “Hunk, I have a question for you that might seem intrusive, and please let me know if I’m overstepping a professional boundary, but I have to ask.”

There was a brief moment of silence, then, _“I have a feeling I know what this is about, but go ahead and ask me.”_

“As you know, my cousin is already there with my stepmother and younger brother.” Shiro nervously tapped a ballpoint pen on the desktop. “My cousin seems to think that my younger brother may require my intervention in his care. Have you noticed anything that would corroborate his claim?”

_“Yeah, that’s what I thought you were gonna ask me about.” Hunk sighed. “Since your brother is a minor and there may be cause for concern, that frees me up somewhat to discuss it with you. Keith has been their primary room service attendant, and he told me that he suspects Kuro is afraid of your stepmother. I don’t know if I’d call that a smoking gun, since I don’t know them very well, maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. Keith mostly grew up with alpha care givers who wanted him to be fearless, so his perspective could be influenced by that. I did notice that your cousin and the bodyguard seem to pay more attention to your brother’s comfort level than your stepmother does. But again, I might be misreading the situation and I wasn’t around them for very long. I think you’re going to need to see this for yourself to be sure.”_

Yep, that pretty much summed up what Shiro had been afraid Hunk would say on the matter. He thanked Hunk for being forthright with him before hanging up, and then he dialed a law firm in Midtown. They were not on retainer, but Shiro had used them before with satisfactory results. If he was going to walk into a tense situation he’d just as soon do so armed with an expert’s advice.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_Please join us for drinks and hors d’oeuvres._ The invitation, printed on the maximum weight cardstock that could have possibly fit into an inkjet machine, also included an illustration of grape vines, as if to underscore the promise of drinks. Underneath of that was the date and time of the party, and a name and address that made Ryan’s lip twitch toward a snarl at the sight of it.

The invitation had just been delivered by courier to the family suite. It was addressed to Ryan Kinkade “plus one,” as if there were any doubt as to who would be his plus one if he were to accept, and this time he let loose an audible growl. Luckily Matt had been invited to a game of Whist with several other USAF spouses, so he was not on hand to witness the arrival of this letter and may never need know of it since Ryan intended to put it through the shredder.

After replying that he was turning down the invitation, of course. Ryan might not be what most would call a social butterfly, but neither was he a social numbskull. Failing to RSVP on a written invitation would have caused more trouble in the long term than a moment’s vindictive pleasure would be worth. He retreated inside the family suite to proceed to the first order of business when the suite’s phone let out a cheery little ring. 

Damn it. That courier had been in full livery, and scuttlebutt on a military base moved faster than shit through a goose. With a feeling of unease beginning to creep in, Ryan strode over to the gossip bench positioned under the living room window, where the telephone still rang. His hand closed around the cool molded plastic of the receiver as he brought it to his ear.

“Kinkade speaking.”

_“Lieutenant!”_ It was Colonel Graham. _“Just the man I wanted to reach! I’m hearing a rumor that you’ve received an invitation to some sort of diversion at Dr. Manigford’s home this weekend. Drinks on a Sunday, what a caution that woman is.”_

The conversation that ensued made it clear that while the Colonel respected Kinkade’s reasons for not wanting to go to the party, he would still like it very much if Kinkade were to go to the party and report back to him afterward what he saw and heard there. He did at least allow the courtesy of not requiring Matt’s presence as his plus one, as he was not specifically invited and also there was simply no way in hell Kinkade would have gone along with it. By the time Kinkade hung up, he was burdened with the knowledge of his imminent attendance at a party hosted by a man he’d sooner set on fire than toast, and he was going to have to figure out a way to explain to Matt why he didn’t want to bring him along into the lion’s den.

He needed help with this. Mindful of the time zone difference, he retrieved his cell phone, checked the time and hit speed dial. 

_“Ryan?”_ His mother-in-law sounded like she was surrounded by traffic. _“How are you guys doing, are you enjoying yourselves over there?”_

“I’m afraid we may have a problem.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Fortunately, once Tatsuo had been informed that there was a spa in the building, it was not difficult to find something to distract him with. Unfortunately, convincing Tatsuo that Kuro ought to enjoy the spa as well was proving to be a challenge.

“He is of an age to appreciate such things now, Tatsuo-san,” Shinji insisted. Really, the boy was seventeen years-old and coming into his prime. If he did not learn to value skinship soon, he may never learn at all.

“We have spa packages specifically tailored for children accompanying their parents who are receiving spa treatments,” Farla, their omega attendant whenever Keith was not present, piped up from where she was clearing up the lunch dishes. “I could help set it up for you, if you would like.” 

A tall, willowy brunette with a scent like tea roses, she didn’t seem any more intimidated by Tatsuo’s glares than Keith did. Shinji privately found this to be a blessing. If Kuro was ever going to figure out how to brush off his mother’s vitriolic overreactions, having a blasé reaction modeled for him by other omega would surely help.

“For children, you say?” Tatsuo looked unhappily resigned. “I assume this means that treatments will be provided in the safest of environments?”

Farla assured him that all the spa personnel were licensed professionals, including the omega beauticians. In the end, the allure of a mani-pedi proved too irresistible and Tatsuo allowed the attendant to set up their appointments, provided that Izu be allowed to supervise Kuro’s treatments. By the time they returned Shinji would be able to surprise them with an early supper as fait accompli, and with enough wine Tatsuo would grow sleepy and swan off to bed. One full day down, one more to go before Shinji blindsided Tatsuo with the news that they had dinner plans with Shiro for Saturday.

Shinji was developing an idea of how he might use that extra day to get Tatsuo alone long enough to raise a proper discussion with him about Kuro’s future, but in order to do that, he would need to first arrange for Kuro and Izu to be busy elsewhere.

This plan might require the assistance of Garrett and his lovely bride in order to carry it off.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
After what seemed like a million years but was really just a couple of hours, Akane and Krolia had been fitted for one outfit each, and Keith had been fitted for his entire ensemble of garments and accessories. The whole kit and caboodle was rented, except for the kamon they had to special order, and the kaiken. As soon as Keith saw the display of ceremonial daggers he decided one of them was going home with him and he bought it outright with his own money. A little pricey but well worth it. This wedding fever which had overtaken his relatives had not messed up Keith’s priorities.

Afterward they had gone to the café for takeaway just as Krolia had promised they would, and taken their snacks over to a bench to eat. Krolia had already finished her treat and gone into a nearby cosmetics store. Keith savored his Imagawayaki while next to him Akane ate Takoyaki like it would jump off the skewer and escape if she didn’t hurry.

Keith let his gaze wander around stone-lined alleys, Hiragana signage and colorful lanterns, some of which were lit due to the overcast day. Pumpkin decorations were everywhere because it was close to Halloween. One of those alleys led to a small noodle shop which was a satellite of an older downtown noodle shop. According to Akane, Wakasa was testing the waters for franchising and had left the original shop in another relative’s hands while he ran this smaller shop himself.

It would be a really good time to go trick or treat on the motherfucker.

“If you’re thinking about pulling some kind of prank on Cousin Bob,” Akane suddenly spoke up between voracious bites, “I think you should remember that you look like a Manabu. There is no way in hell he won’t recognize you.”

Keith scowled, because she had a point. Manabu facial features were so distinct and dominant that even Keith’s quarter Greek mother looked like a Manabu. His own kids with Hunk would probably wind up with the same sharp bone structure predominant in Keith’s maternal line.

Holy shit, he was going to have kids with Hunk some day. Someone was going to call him Mom and beg him to take them out for Imagawayaki. The last bite of the red bean cake threatened to fall from his lax fingers.

Then somebody else’s fingers suddenly snapped right in front of his face. Keith followed the gesture up the arm to the face of his cousin, who looked back at him with no apology in her expression.

“You were looking a little glassy-eyed,” was her only offered explanation.

“I found everything we’ll need.” Krolia walked up to them with a shopping bag over her arm and a big smile on her face that swept away Keith’s irritation at Akane. “Where to next?”

“The gift shop!” Akane declared, standing up and pulling Keith up with her. “We’ve got to pick out wedding favors and get some origami paper.”

Keith let his mother and cousin drag him into a shop with lucky cat figurines beckoning from the window display, but his mind was still on a small noodle shop located somewhere behind him.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro did something he was unaccustomed to doing while in his office at work. He stood and went to the window, parted the curtains and looked out. He was hoping the sight of thin air just a pane of glass away from a long fall to concrete would shake the mood that had taken hold of him since hanging up with E.B. Blate, but it gave him only the barest tickle of unease compared to that news.

_“Your younger brother is just old enough that the Hague Convention no longer applies, but it would still be easier to gain custody if you can get a sympathetic judge to delay him leaving the country, and it’ll be easier to get a judge to hear you out if you’re already married when you file the petition. I know you’re responsible and financially stable, anyone can see that, but married always wins in court over cohabiting when custody fights are involved.”_

All of this was just hypothetical. He really didn’t want to remove Kuro from his stepmother’s custody and he hoped like hell he never had to. Even if Shinji’s suspicions were on the right track, that didn’t mean some more amicable agreement couldn’t be reached. Still, the lawyer’s advice replayed in his mind as his subconscious tried to analyze and tease out all of its ramifications, until Daniel Li knocked and then immediately poked his head full of spiky dark hair through the opened door.

“Hey boss man, I’m going on a coffee run. You want?”

Shiro had tried and thus far failed to get the young man to speak in a more professional manner. The intern was fast on the uptake, an invaluable trait for business, but he was not gifted with patience or much of a predilection for decorum. On this particular afternoon, however, his bracing way of expressing himself was a welcome distraction and Shiro was in no mood to correct his word choices anyway.

“Yeah, get me the biggest coffee tonic they have.” Shiro reached inside his suit jacket for his wallet.

“That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

Shiro passed over the cash. “That’s the idea.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“When you’re dealing with mid-length or layered hair, braids are a simple way to create an updo that makes the hair look much thicker and longer than it actually is!” Romelle demonstrated rope braids on her mannequin, which she had set up on a stand holder with a camera displaying her rapid technique from another angle on the whiteboard behind her. Her fingers moved as fast as a raccoon playing in a sprinkler. “See how easy it is? But you don’t need to copy me exactly, go wherever inspiration takes you.”

All of the students had mannequins of their own, of varying hair types. Lance, like the other new students, had received the mannequin that came with the basic kit: a vinyl molded head graced with mid-length brunette hair and such a magnificent bitchface that Lance had named her Keitha on the spot. The students had their mannequins set up on tabletop holders to follow along with the teacher. Lance tried to work Keitha’s locks in a similar way to what Romelle was making look easier than it actually was, and he thought he was doing okay considering this was the first time he’d ever worked on this doll’s hair.

“Hide the ends by tucking them under the braids with bobby pins, then pancake the braids to make them appear fuller.” Romelle’s quick fingers worked the mannequin’s strands, pulling the braids out just enough to get the desired effect. “I’ll come around now to see your progress, and answer any questions that you might have.”

Romelle started from the back of the classroom and worked her way forward, so Lance went into the zone and braided and tucked hair until the back of Keitha’s head started shaping up into something that did indeed disguise the actual length of the hair. If he were to put some flowers in it here and there, Keitha would look ready for her instagram story to begin.

“This is an interesting look, Twyla.” Romelle’s voice came from somewhere over Lance’s right shoulder. “You’ve chosen to pull all of the hair forward so that the braids crisscross the entire front of the face, what led you to this choice?”

“I just didn’t feel it would be a good experience for the person wearing the braids if they could not also see and feel the braids for themselves. There are nerve endings in the face that people forget about until they feel a sensation there.”

Fuck, Twyla was probably killing it with avant-garde visionary shit and here Lance was making a glamour shot.

“That is a valid perspective and I would like to see more of your thinking on this,” Romelle continued, “but I also think it would be a good idea to make sure there are eye and mouth holes for the client. And ear holes. And maybe some nostril holes.”

A fair point. Suffocation was not a good look on anyone. Killing it shouldn’t mean accidentally killing the client and now Lance felt a lot better about Keitha’s hairdo. He glanced to the side at what Moontow was doing and saw that her mannequin was sporting a milkmaid braided crown. It was so freaking adorable her mannequin even looked less disgruntled.

“This is lovely, Lance, you’ve got a waterfall braid leading into a fishtail chignon.” Romelle had crept into Lance’s periphery while he was admiring Moontow’s work. “What inspired you to create a water theme?”

“I, uh...” He hadn’t known those braids were called by those names until right that second. “My mother used to make these kinds of braids for my sisters, I guess that’s what inspired it.” 

Lance had just done the same type of braids he’d seen his mother do a million times without realizing that’s what he was doing. Veronica had started hacking her hair off above the shoulders as soon as she figured out where Mamá hid the scissors, but that never stopped Mamá from trying to make her hair look ladylike before she left the house. Rachel had never really cared one way or the other. Getting her to sit still for a braid had been as simple as putting a book in her hands.

“Wonderful work,” Romelle said. “While our eyes are fixed on the future we must never undervalue the contributions of our ancestors. Nicely done, Lance.”

Blushing with pride, Lance smiled as he finished artfully tugging loose pieces of Keitha’s braids.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
When Daniel came back with Shiro’s drink order, he arrived with a surprise in tow. 

“Rachel!” Shiro rose to greet her. “What can I do for you? Is everything alright at home?”

“Everything’s fine. Muchas gracias.” Daniel had needlessly pulled the guest chair out for her after handing Shiro his coffee tonic, but Rachel just dropped into it without any apparent awareness that she was being flirted with. “Mamá sent me to tell you that she got all of the materials and the sewing machine this morning and she doesn’t think Lancito’s frock is going to take her very long because according to her he just wants to get away with wearing a nightgown like it was clothes.” Rachel shrugged eloquently and Shiro stepped on the impulse to quip that a nightgown would hardly be the most inappropriate thing Lance had ever worn in public. “She also said I should tell you the temporary visas all came through today.”

Shiro had actually been informed of that already, but he also knew that wasn’t the real reason why Vibiana had sent Rachel to his office. He looked to see if his office door was closed and found Daniel was still leaning on the doorjamb staring at Rachel with a goofy smile.

“Daniel, why don’t you go and make Rachel a cup of tea and close the door behind you?”

Rachel flustered, “I couldn’t take advantage– ”

Shiro waved it off, “I insist.”

Daniel promised, “I’m gonna make the best cup of tea you ever had,” and off he went, practically leaving a puff of smoke behind him.

“I apologize for him,” Shiro said as soon as the door closed.

“He’s just being friendly,” Rachel replied, and now Shiro could tell exactly why Kai had been concerned. Daniel was a friendly guy, but even a blind mouse could see that he was putting the moves on her. Such as they were.

Shiro thought of encouraging her to join the dojo where he, Kai and Haruka all trained whenever time permitted. Maybe he could get Lance to suggest it by asking him to join first. Come to think of it, since Lance was going to be living in New York City for the long-term, he absolutely should join. The thought of Lance being mugged without any way to protect himself gave Shiro the cold chill that looking out the window had failed to do. 

Maybe he could decree that Lance should never leave the house without a bodyguard. Because that would go over so well. Lance was ferociously independent and wouldn’t care one whit about any status associated with having a security escort. On the other hand, he cared deeply about his family. An idea began to foment in Shiro’s brain.

But that would have to be enacted later. For now, he’d attend to the immediate matter at hand, who had grown distracted by an annotated collection of Elizabeth Gaskell short stories sitting on the edge of his desk. The well-worn paperback was one he frequently returned to whenever he needed to take his mind off of his job for a short while.

“Rachel,” he said, and she startled guiltily. “It’s alright, you can borrow it, I don’t mind.” She actually folded the book against her chest like a precious pet, did he have no fiction on the shelves in the front parlor at home? He would have to check. At the very least he was going to need to find a new book for his break times.

But he was getting off the mental track again. “I understand you have some experience at research methodology.”

She blinked at the sudden topic change. “Yes?”

“How would you like to put that experience to work here on a part-time basis?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
It turned out they had to go back to the kimono shop, but Hunk was there this time, so it was alright.

“Hey babe.” Hunk stood in front of a mirror with his arms out and a smile for Keith while Mrs. Suzuishi muttered to herself as she tugged a black nagagi into place over his under-robe.

“Hey yourself.” Keith dared to step past Mrs. Suzuishi and peck him on the cheek. “Not that I don’t love seeing you any time of day, but why am I here?”

“Brat,” Akane said without any rancor in her voice as she made a half-hearted swat at Keith’s hair.

“It’s my fault.” Hunk’s mother peeked out of one of the dressing rooms. Her black tomesode hung loose over her under-robe, a design of sea turtles frolicking in surf rising from the bottom hem of the visible panel. “I figured while we were all in the same place, why not see how Tutu’s gown will fit you? Mrs. Suzuishi said it would be alright to use one of her dressing rooms to try it on.”

Mrs. Suzuishi ought to be cool with it, considering how much money she was making from all the rentals for this wedding. Keith thought about it and decided he was cool with it, too. This gown couldn’t possibly be any more complicated than anything else he’d be expected to wear. He shrugged. “Okay.”

Minutes later he stood in front of a floor mirror in a curtained-off dressing room. The shop’s dressing rooms were pretty roomy, probably to accommodate having an extra set of elbows in there to help out. Tutu’s gown was pretty roomy too. It was white floral brocade, sleeveless with a wide ruffled neckline and more ruffles on the short train. 

It was surprisingly comfortable for a formal garment. Keith did an experimental jumping jack and when his arms and legs came back together the gown fell straight to the floor with a soft flumpy noise. Okay, so maybe it was a little more than just pretty roomy. Hunk’s great grandma must have been built like a brick shithouse. There had to be some way to keep this gown from falling off or else he’d be walking down the aisle in his underwear within a few steps.

“Are we gonna get to see it any time in this era?”

Flipping Akane. If she ever got married he was gonna give her so much crap. 

On the spot for a solution, Keith pulled the gown back up his body and tried crossing the ruffled straps over his head like a pinafore. _Boom_. Done. He stepped outside and turned a circle to model the gown.

“What do you think?”

Krolia pretended to look considering and smacked Akane in the back of the head when she opened her mouth to smart off. Hunk regarded him with soft eyes while Alana tried to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Sweetie, that’s supposed to be an off-the-shoulder neckline,” she said.

“Yeah, I kinda had a problem with that,” Keith admitted. It was more like an on-the-floor neckline on him.

“You’re going to need to have it taken in,” Mrs. Suzuishi advised as she messed with the obi around Hunk’s waist.

“In just a week?” Krolia asked incredulously, but that wasn’t the real problem. 

“Just get your old roommate to do it,” Akane said. “Isn’t he coming on Saturday? Just tell him he’s a bridesmaid and it’s their job.”

Alana said softly to herself, “That’s right, they need attendants for the second service, we forgot about that.”

Lance would be there on Saturday, and Keith knew he could get it done that fast and was more likely to be flattered than offended about being asked for help, but the real problem was, “Won’t that make it impossible for other people to use the gown someday if the fabric is tailored to fit me?”

“It’s okay Keith,” Alana said, “every bride who has worn that gown has had it altered.”

Easy to say for a woman who was also built like a brick shithouse.

“You can leave about three inches for seam allowance,” Mrs. Suzuishi said, still not looking up from her fussing.

“We might not need to cut any fabric off the gown,” Hunk said. “Coran is a genius with fashion tape, we’ll take it to him when I go in to pick up the accessories for my tux.”

Oh, thank everything. Keith breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t think he could deal if their rushed wedding managed to take Hunk’s family wedding gown out of circulation.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance hugged his kit bag to his chest in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce, still giddy with how well the day had gone. A catered lunch of vegan sandwiches and chips had been included in the price of the class, which they ate in the small but well-equipped break room. Some of the regular students, including Twyla, had sat with them to talk to them about Oriande. They made it sound like hard work, but worth it. 

The second half of class had been spent learning how to use the hot tools to best effect on their mannequins’ loose hair. Day two was going to be makeup, and they would be practicing on each other. Lance couldn’t wait. He pulled his phone out of his hidden belt pouch and called Keith.

Keith picked up with the phone close to his grinning face. _“Hey dude! Guess where I am right now?”_

“Disneyland?”

Keith rolled his eyes. _“No.”_

“Griffith Observatory?”

_“Nope.”_

“The abandoned zoo.”

_“Come on, Lance.”_

“Well give me a hint.”

Keith held the phone out at arm’s length to show him standing in a familiar dressing room with an equally familiar red-haired gent standing behind him folding cloth together with fabric clamps on an unfamiliar gown.

Lance squealed. “Oh my gosh it’s your wedding gown! Hi Coran!”

_“One of ‘em,”_ Keith said.

_“Hullo Lance.”_ Coran looked up with a smile. _“Keith, there is so much fabric here that I do recommend that you allow our alterations team nip it in for you. We can take it in several sizes without compromising the structure of the gown, and I assure you we can meet your deadline. I do believe you can pull this off with a Bardot neckline, we’ll just have to apply some double-sided tape when you put it on so that it stays up.”_

Keith frowned doubtfully. _“You know I’m gonna have to change into this between two other outfit changes, right?”_

“Don’t you worry, I can get you into that gown lickety-split.” Lance dandy to the rescue.

Keith beamed up at Lance from the phone’s video chat screen. _“Does that mean you’ll be my honor attendant?”_

Lance whooped loud enough that Kai looked over his shoulder to see what was going on. “Is water wet?”

Keith smiled in relief, and someone in the background said something that got his attention. Keith turned back to the phone with UwU eyes. _“Do you think Haruka would want to be a bridesmaid?”_

“Are you kidding me, she’d probably fight anyone who would dare try to stop her.” 

Kai chuckled in the front seat.

_“Think maybe you guys can help me figure out what to pick for the attendant outfits?”_ was Keith’s next question.

_“It can’t be white and it can’t be black,”_ Coran jumped in, _“and you mustn’t outshine the bride.”_

“Keith, Keith, Keith,” Lance said. “You’re not supposed to let us pick. You’re supposed to pick the gaudiest thing you can find and make us wear it.”

Keith laughed. Hunk’s voice filtered in from the background, above the bell-like laughter of a woman just out of sight. _“My waistcoat and tie are orange,”_ he said, _“my family’s lucky color. Just in case you want everybody to match.”_

“I’ll have you know I look amazeballs in orange.”

_“Orange it is then,”_ Keith decided.

_“I’ve still got your measurements, Lance,”_ Coran said, _“but I will require Miss Haruka’s in order to ensure the best fit sight unseen.”_

“She’s a Mrs. Shinobu,” Lance replied, “and I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

_“I’ve got several things in stock that could be perfect! Don’t move Keith, I’ll be right back with them for you to compare!”_

Coran galloped out of the dressing room letting the louvered door fall shut behind him. Keith immediately plopped down in a tufted corner chair, slouching back and looking around shiftily before tapping rapidly. The picture-in-picture feature popped up in the video chat screen.

need 2 talk 2 u its personal

Lance hit the privacy button in the back of the Rolls and tapped back.

K

Keith looked up and then looked back down while tapping.

how r u gettin the D?

Was he serious?

i barge in Shiros room n take off all my clos

Keith actually rolled his whole head, that’s how hard he rolled his eyes.

tried that. only got so far.

Okay, that right there was serious.

WTF? is he made of stone?

Keith pulled an exaggerated ‘thank you’ face.

IKR? he wants 2 wait for wedding nite

Hunk must have remembered everything Lance taught him about wooing sex workers and then carried it over exponentially to the tenth power. Luckily time was on Keith’s side.

U don’t have long 2 wait then buck up

Keith scowled.

dont u tell me buck up u dont know my life

Okay drama queen.

have u tried stripping

Keith looked offended.

didnt I just tell u?

Oh, please.

i kno u boo, u went in there n tor outa ur clos like teen wolf didn u

Keith blew out a breath and glanced to the side. Clothes rippage confirmed.

so u sayin I shld do somthin like our act

If he really wanted the hot beef injection before his wedding night?

lets just say when i told Shiro bout it he almos swallowd his tong *tongue

Keith smirked.

okay ty for helpin

“De nada.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Colleen Holt shoved her carry-on bag in the overhead bin and took her seat. She was crammed in coach until Dulles, but all the seats in Business Class had been booked already and First Class was out of her budget. She was officially on leave from work for personal time off. Her bosses knew what was really up, but they needed plausible deniability, so she couldn’t tap the expense account to pay for this trip. She took out her Blackberry Key2 (smartphone designers could pry the QWERTY keyboard from her cold dead hands) and messaged her husband.

Plane’s on time. I’m on my way.

He messaged her back immediately.

Stay safe. Love you.

Colleen smiled and sent him back a string of kiss emoji. She intended to stay safe. Her smile faded as she looked out the window onto the tarmac, busy with baggage conveyor trucks and people in reflective vests. She intended to keep everybody safe.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Krolia and Akane had gone home after Keith decided to go to the department store with Hunk and his mother. Hunk’s sister wound up joining them at the department store to see what Coran had found for her children to wear as junior attendants, and afterwards they headed for a nearby café with outdoor seating. Their sandwiches were ordered and their soft drinks were delivered. It was time to start phase two of Operation Get It.

How to make the question seem casual, though? The opportunity arose in the next minute as if the universe was on board with getting Keith some action.

“Have the two of you chosen your first dance song yet?” Alana asked. “It will have memories attached to it for the rest of your lives so you need to pick carefully.”

“We hadn’t even decided if we should have dancing, honestly,” Hunk said. “Do you want dancing, babe?”

“My mom would probably like it,” Keith replied. She’d told him there would have been energetic dancing if his parents had waited to have a big wedding like the kind her Yaya would have wanted, but they’d eloped and then never had their chance for a vow renewal ceremony. “Akane won’t care as long as she gets to do her thing, but we don’t have a DJ.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” Hina said. “I moonlight at birthday parties and corporate retreats, I’ve been doing it a while.”

“She’s good at it,” Hunk reassured Keith, “but Hina, you’re also a guest.”

“Then you can consider it part of my wedding gift to you.” From the look on her face, this had been Hina’s idea for a wedding present from the moment she’d found out there was to be a wedding. “Maybe you could use Mom and Chichi’s first song.”

“You can save “Your Precious Love” for the parent dances,” Alana told her. “The first dance has to be something special to your brother and Keith.”

Keith seized his moment. “What was Hunk’s favorite song when he was younger?”

Alana laughed at whatever she was remembering. “His favorite song was “Crush on You,” he used to shake his little sassafras all over the kitchen to it.”

“Lil Kim?” Keith could definitely work with that.

“No, The Jets.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m pretty sure that was actually your favorite song,” Hunk said.

“That you knew all the words and dance moves to.” Hina sipped her cola.

“That’s only because Mom played that video on repeat whenever she baked cookies!” Hunk insisted, and oh my, his cheeks were turning brick red. 

Keith might be onto something here.

“Cut me some slack, man,” Hunk went on, “I was a kid!”

“As cute as it would be,” the apples of Alana’s cheeks glowed with mirth, “you might want to go with something a little slower for your first dance.”

Keith thought he now had what he needed to speed things up.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro had decided to ride along with Kai to pick up Vibiana. It was convenient, it saved gas, and he needed her private counsel. Rachel had already accepted a ride home from Daniel. Shiro trusted the beta to get her home safely on the back of his motorcycle, if only because if he drove too fast then he couldn’t talk to her. The only person Shiro had ever met who loved talking as much as Daniel did was his very own beloved.

On that note, Shiro wasn’t sure if he trusted Daniel to get Rachel home without ignoring every office fraternization policy ever created, so he tried to put the fear of boss into him before they left. Daniel had reacted to that as he reacted to most attempts to rein him in with authority: flippantly. Then Omnia handed Rachel her onboarding paperwork and made a point of putting the sexual harassment paperwork on top before leveling Daniel with a look which made his spiky hair practically bristle in apprehension. Maybe it was high time that Shiro gave Omnia another raise.

“What’s on your mind, guapito?”

He looked over at his future mother-in-law, who was sitting in the seat usually occupied by her youngest son. Shiro had put the console down so that they could share a crisp, fizzy bottle of cider. On reflection, that choice might have been just a little extravagant, so it was no wonder that Vibiana had seen right through it.

Shiro decided to be blunt. “I’m worried about Lance navigating the city on his own and I’d like to hire Marco to bodyguard him.”

“I give you credit for realizing that Lance will want to wander off on his own eventually,” Vibiana replied, “but I fear you are underestimating his wiliness and overestimating Marco’s ability to tell him what to do.”

“Sometimes just having a travel companion is enough of a deterrent,” Shiro said, fiddling with the glass in his hands. “I think Lance would go along with it if he perceives it as helping out his brother.”

“Oh, you’re a crafty one.” Vibiana sipped her cider. “I don’t think Marco would like being a bodyguard, though. He prefers working with horses over trying to corral people.”

“It would only be temporary. Just until... ”

“Until Lance has a claim mark on his neck warding off other alphas?” Vibiana gave Shiro a look of such deep understanding it seared to the soul. “Oh, cariño. I think you need to be having this conversation with my son, not with me.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Luis watched his family pick out a movie on the hotel TV’s streaming device while his sister caught him up on current events. The guest house where they’d gotten a room on arrival had been comfortable for sleeping, but it was nice to now be in a place with enough space and privacy to let the children be a little rambunctious before winding down for the night.

“I hope I can make it in time for hermanito’s wedding,” he said in a low voice as he retreated back into the suite’s bedroom with the landline’s corded handset to his ear and the base clutched in his opposite hand.

_“Mamá wouldn’t let him set a date where you couldn’t be there,”_ Veronica reassured him, her voice slightly crackly from the long distance she had somehow found the scratch for. _“Do you know when your passports will come through?”_

“Hopefully within the next three days.” Thank God their applications had been approved, but now they had a new waiting game to contend with. The medicals and everything else that would have kept them busy had already been done. It wasn’t easy entertaining active young children when they couldn’t go to school. 

_“Stay strong, hermano. We’ll all be reunited before you know it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't use a single movie as a template this time, but I did watch a whole bunch of wedding themed movies and wedding reality TV. I had no idea there were so many shows out there but now that I've seen them it makes sense because weddings are dramatic events. So, I borrowed a lot of common tropes from those movies and shows you might start recognizing some of them from this point onward.


	6. Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People go on outings, discussions are had, and some forward motion happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos, and shout out to PyroInfinite and SinisterChaos for the comments! Tatsuo is lost in his own headspace, but don't worry. Someone will assist him in removing his head from his rear, and Shiro will step up.

  
Lance sat on his bed in an expensive silk-blend sleep shirt over a cheap pair of flowered pajama shorts that had survived the journey from Morvok’s Home for Happy Hookers. The dichotomy in the clothing choices provided a moment’s juvenile pleasure to distract him from worrying about how quiet Shiro had been at dinner. Usually when Shiro behaved that pensively it was because something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Now Lance sat quietly waiting for the patter of big feet to tamp down as his family found their beds on the floor above him. While he sat waiting, another distraction arrived in the form of his phone’s chat app suddenly lighting up with alerts. He reached over to the walnut bedside table where the colorful light added to the glow from the bedside lamp.

**Keef** : I think I have a promble

**Keef** : need ur help

**Keef** : lance pik up im serious

**Lancey Lance** : relax halp has arrived

**Lancey Lance** : lay ur probs on me bb

**Keef** : u know how I was gunna strip for Hunk

**Lancey Lance** : ????? yes

**Keef** : I ask his mom for his fave song from back n the day

**Lancey Lance** : a smart move I have tot u well

**Keef** : THIS IS TEH SONG

A video file pinged to Lance’s screen. He tapped play and the video opened on a syncopated drumbeat with a silhouetted figure dancing. Okay so it was kinda old skool 80s pop but it had a danceable beat. Lance didn’t really see what the problem was, but then– 

_♬ How did you know ‘cause I never told! You found out I’ve got a crush on you! ♬_

OMG the cuteness was real.

**Keef** : I cant strip to this!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, technically he could, but from Hunk’s perspective it would probably be roughly equivalent to stripping to the Darkwing Duck theme song. But soft, what light bulb upon yonder bright idea breaks?

**Lancey Lance** : I kno what u have 2 do

**Keef** : what

Only the best idea ever, that’s what.

**Lancey Lance** : u have 2 learn the dance moves and suprise Hunk at the receptn withis song

It was fucking brilliant.

**Keef** : why did I chat u!!!!!!! .·´¯`(> <)´¯`·.

**Lancey Lance** : dont b cryin bc I gave u the hit of ur receptn party 

**Lancey Lance** : bsides u can just use 1 of the songs we used 2 strip to for ur sensual seductn

**Keef** : kk u got a point

**Keef** : ill try that

**Lancey Lance** : and u shud do the crush song at ur receptn

**Keef** : no promises

**Lancey Lance** : I will learn it w/u

_**Keef**_ : bye lance

Keith beat a quick retreat from the conversation. That’s okay, Lance would just email him a more thorough argument on why it was an awesome idea later. In the meantime, the house had settled into the hush of night. Lance rose from the bed and crept out of his room, not even bothering to find his robe first.

The hallway was dim and cold and felt strangely empty. Usually when he was making this nightly foray, the silence felt alive, as if Shiro’s heartbeat was drawing Lance onward. Tonight, Lance felt more of a prescient sense that when he opened that door the room would be dark and abandoned. It was when he was about to step around the creaky board that Lance heard the faint peal of piano music and realized that he was right. Shiro was not, in fact, in his bedroom.

He was upstairs in the music room.

Lance followed the rising notes that resolved into Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata the further he ascended up the stairs. It was a good night for it, as light from the full moon flooded the top stair landing through the metal-framed skylight above. He turned down the hall away from Shiro’s office, toward the stained glass panel of the music room’s door, which stood slightly ajar.

Lance pressed his way in softly, his tread muffled by the Aubusson rug laid over the floor for just that purpose. Shiro’s silver head was bent over the art-case baby grand, his elegant fingers caressing the keys as the plaintive melody poured out over sonorous chords. The adagio movement ended, and there was meant to be a brief pause before allegretto started, but Shiro seemed to be giving it some extra thought. Or maybe he just wasn’t in the mood to move on from adagio. 

Lance figured this was as good an opening as any and coughed to announce his presence before joining the alpha on the duet piano bench. Shiro’s luminescent hair was haloed from the light of the moon coming in through the window. The brass chandelier above them was on its dimmest setting, throwing softer light over his broad shoulders in shirtsleeves, and on his cheek as he turned his head to look down at his seatmate. 

“Hi honey,” he said, voice subdued, face shuttered. “What’s on your mind?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Lance admitted.

Shiro smiled, and it was a gentle but not altogether happy smile. “Nothing gets by you.”

“So what’s going on?”

Shiro’s brows furrowed and the smile slipped from his face as he looked down at the piano keys again. One hand hovered over the keys as if to restart the music but Lance intercepted it with his own.

“Shiro.”

Shiro took Lance’s offered hand in both of his, brought it to his face and ever-so-carefully scented Lance’s wrist gland with his cheek.

“Sometimes I feel like I could drown you in my scent and it still wouldn’t be enough to protect you.”

A ripple of Shiro’s unsettled mood eddied across the tenuous bond formed by the scenting. “Protect me from what?”

“Everything.” Shiro sighed. “Anything. I was just thinking today that I ought to sign you and your sister up at the dojo where I train because you’re going to be out in the big city and you need to be able to defend yourselves.” His eyes closed. “And then I realized that you’re going to be out in a big city where I brought you, and if anything happened to you it would be my fault. Because I brought you here when I can’t always be with you.” His eyes opened, gazing into Lance’s searchingly. “I don’t know if I can explain it rationally so that you’ll understand, because how I’m feeling is not responding to reason.”

Lance felt a flash of agitation chased by a throb of sympathy. “If it’s anything like the way I want to protect you from your own fears, then I think I get it.” He turned sideways on the bench to grasp Shiro’s hands with both of his. “Don’t forget that I was living in a big city when we met, and I was probably in more danger living there than I’ve ever been here with you. Because I haven’t forgotten. I also seem to recall making a proactive choice to move here, so will you stop blaming yourself for everything?”

“I don’t suppose I can bargain you into working from home?” Shiro let go of one hand to slip his arm around Lance’s waist. “For my peace of mind.” His eyes and smile said he meant that to read as playful, but his scent and the protobond growing in hopeful anticipation of a bite said he was also kind of serious.

“Tell you what.” Lance leaned closer to Shiro, pulling him in with an arm slung around his shoulders. “I’ll train at the dojo and let you scent me thoroughly every day, if you’ll trust me to take care of myself when you can’t be there in person.”

Lance actually was kind of hoping to work out of a home office eventually, but that didn’t mean he wanted to live under lock and key, no matter how benevolently intended. He and Haruka would both wind up losing the very last of their shit if that happened.

“How thoroughly?” Shiro’s voice took a turn for the rumbly.

Lance already had one leg tucked up under him on the padded piano bench. He used that leverage and the arm around Shiro’s shoulders to boost himself up, raising his other leg high enough to clear the piano and then bringing it down on Shiro’s other side. There were a number of things Lance could thank his stint as an exotic dancer for, and top of that list was a job when he desperately needed one, meeting Keith; and right that very minute, being able to straddle Shiro on a piano bench with relative ease.

He balanced his weight across Shiro’s firm thighs as the alpha’s hands dipped to support him under his rear, his new vantage point allowing him to look down into Shiro’s rapt face and smell the thickening pheromones rising off of him.

“Cover me in your scent, querido.”

Lance wasn’t surprised when Shiro went right for a primary scent gland, rubbing his cheek against it in rough strokes, before burying his nose there and breathing deeply. Then came lips, softly at first, before the kiss to the neck turned wet with a delicious scrape of teeth. Lance whimpered at the sensation, his every instinct saying yes.

“You like that.” Shiro’s low voice vibrated through Lance’s pulse.

“You know I do.”

“Would you like it if I were to claim you right here and now?”

“Fuck...” 

So much for the sleep shorts, they quickly became soaked beyond redemption. Slick trickled out of the loose fabric onto Shiro’s fingers; he growled and squeezed his handfuls of ass cheek when he felt the bodily fluid leaking out onto his skin. Lance could feel him turning rock hard beneath him and ground down into his lap, eager for some friction. Lance’s scent joined Shiro’s in effusion.

“You really would let me.” Shiro lifted his head to look at Lance eye to eye.

“When I said I would marry you, I didn’t mean only under prescribed circumstances.”

It was social convention to save the mating bite for the wedding night, but their relationship had started well outside of social conventions. They would have to endure a blessing out from both Lance’s mother and Haruka, and possibly Veronica over the phone, and maybe the side eye from some of Shiro’s social set as well, but Lance didn’t think there was anything immoral about claiming in advance of a wedding ceremony. Claim marks were a lot more permanent sign of commitment than a marriage certificate anyway, and Lance was the furthest thing from a kidnap bride of olden times.

“I love you, Shiro.”

“I love you too honey.” Shiro leaned up to kiss him. “So much.”

“Show me,” Lance whispered against his mouth.

Shiro groaned and then stood with Lance in his arms. Lance hooked his legs around Shiro’s hips as he walked them over to an embroidered armchair backed against a wall painted with a mural of an English country garden. Shiro dropped to his knees, depositing Lance in the chair and taking the ruined shorts down his legs as he sat back on his heels.

“I love how limber you are,” Shiro said as he pressed one of Lance’s legs back to dangle over an arm of the chair, and then he pressed in close to lick at the slick coating Lance’s thighs as if it was ambrosia sapped from a dryad.

Lance could hardly control the noises coming out of him as Shiro licked his sac clean, and he hoped his sister was not hearing this, not out of embarrassment exactly but because he knew she would ask endless questions about it later. Then Shiro took him into his mouth and Lance was beyond caring if anybody heard him moaning. He had no time to come down from his resultant orgasm before Shiro’s teeth punctured the scent gland on the inside of his raised thigh and sent him spiraling higher again, endorphins and oxytocin flooding his bloodstream as he came a second time, and he could now feel an echo of Shiro’s pleasure alongside of his own.

The bond mark Shiro had just planted on one of his secondary glands was not a permanent one like the claim mark on his neck would be, but until it healed it would offer a measure of the scent protections and feelings of connectedness that the eventual permanent mark would offer in full.

Shiro sat back with blood on his lip, looking very satisfied with himself. Lance pounced out of the chair and knocked him backwards onto the rug, kissing his grinning mouth which tasted of copper and slick. His eyes gleamed argent when Lance raised up to breathe.

“Show me you love me,” Shiro said, a hint of challenge rumbling in his tone.

Lance was never one to back down from a challenge. He grabbed Shiro’s broadcloth shirt in both hands and yanked it open hard enough to send buttons flying, baring his superbly toned torso to the night air. Amaranth nipples tightened at the change in temperature, and so did Shiro’s abs as he laughed.

“I guess you don’t love my shirt.” He pretended to pout. “I liked it, though.”

“I’ll find all the buttons and mend it for you, that’s how much I love you,” Lance promised as he rested his weight on his forearms. 

He took one of Shiro’s nipples in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue as he tweaked the other with one hand, and Shiro sighed. His areolas were nowhere near as sensitive as Lance’s were, but he always looked soft as a kitten when they were played with. Lance raised himself up on his elbows again to enjoy that look on his face before sitting back on his haunches to open up Shiro’s fly. He reached under the band of silky briefs for even silkier skin, caressing the hard length in both hands.

Lance looked up and met Shiro’s eyes as he rhythmically stroked him, before repositioning himself between Shiro’s legs so that he could drag his trousers lower down his thighs. Shiro’s cock was hard and heavy enough to curve back against his taut belly, his balls round and full. Lance leaned down again to nuzzle his sac and lick a stripe up the bottom vein of his erection. When he reached the tip, he took it into his mouth, mapping the spongy ridges with his tongue. Salty precum hit his taste buds.

“Fuck,” Shiro panted, his fingertips carding patterns in the carpet pile, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“Guess I better get down to business, then,” Lance said, and without any further warning than that he sunk his teeth into the secondary scent gland on Shiro’s hip.

Shiro whined high in his throat as copper and earthy musk filled Lance’s mouth. A wavelet of sensory data that had not come from himself swept through Lance, the certainty of their feelings for one another swirling between them as he surged up to take Shiro within him in a more literal fashion. He’d barely sat back fully impaled before Shiro recovered and rolled them so that he was on top.

“You.” Shiro’s hips moved like a swell on the sea. “There’s only you.”

“Only you,” Lance agreed, head thrown back victoriously as he took what was freely given.

Shiro’s thrusts were hard enough to move Lance up the carpet, and no doubt his ass was going to be showing the rugburn later, but all he felt was euphoria as Shiro’s knot expanded until he could barely retreat. Orgasm washed through him like the crest of a wave, peaking and returning to its source as Shiro clutched him close and shouted hoarsely into the crook of his neck.

They came back to each other tied together on a damp spot in the rug, the room heavy with the mingled smells of cum and slick.

“Maybe you want to let me clean this one room this one time,” Lance suggested, because damn if he wanted to deal with Haruka if she had to clean up after this.

“I’ll help you with that,” Shiro said, as he had come to the same conclusion.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith lounged in his daybed scrolling through his phone’s playlists for ideas while trying to ignore the pressing need to work on his vows and the fact that Lance’s stupid idea was sounding better by the minute.

_You know Hunk would love it. Just imagine the look on his sweet face when you come out doing the Shuffle._

“Shut up, inner voice.”

This would be a lot easier if he just had access to a pole. He could make any song seductive on the pole. But he didn’t, so he’d just have to work with what was in the house. So far, none of the old songs he used for sets seemed suitable for a home seduction. 

Patrons used to love when Keith leaped on the pole from a running start to the electronic beat of “Dancing on My Own,” but the act that really brought down the house was the rival biker babe floor act to a punk rock song. That one really needed a partner to pull it off, though – literally. Unless? No, why would he be angry enough at himself to rip off his own clothes while cussing himself out? He wanted to turn Hunk on, not scare the shit out of him. 

Keith crossed the biker babe routine off his list and continued his scrolling. An unfortunate percentage of the old numbers were either better with a partner or better on the pole. This song was too cheesy, that song had lyrics that didn’t suit the purpose, that other song was too sleazy – he was going to marry this man, not take him back to the champagne room. Wait a minute, hold the phone, what did he have here?

Keith stopped scrolling on an old R&B song he’d once tried to talk the club’s manager into using in the champagne room, because he’d liked the moderate tempo and sultry lyrics. Sniv was always paranoid about accidentally reminding the older customers just how much older they were than the dancers, so he’d vetoed it. Keith grinned. He knew he’d been hanging onto this song for a good reason. Now all he needed to do was choose an outfit and pick his moment.

Maybe he could even get a little teasing in beforehand. Prime the pump, so to speak. 

And finish his vows. He needed to work that into the agenda too.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The penthouse floor’s galley kitchen was equipped with a vacuum coffee maker which Acxa felt sure was meant to be little more than a conversation starter, but she’d just discovered it worked perfectly well to make coffee which she wouldn’t have to share with anyone but Narti. Since nobody else was awake and she intended to wash up after, nobody else needed to know about it either. She separated the glass carafe from its upper chamber and brought it over to the nook where Narti sat with her laptop on the table, reading over RSVPs that had come in by email. She didn’t look up when Acxa poured fresh hot coffee into the round cup standing ready at her elbow.   
Acxa shrugged off Narti’s inattention and poured her own cup, setting the carafe on a pot holder in the center of the table for easy access. She took a seat and enjoyed the first sip of an aromatic brew that didn’t need any cream or sugar to balance out the bitter notes. Narti still sat reading emails with an intensity unusual even for her.

“Did someone get creative with their response?” It had been fairly common in L.A., where creative types were thick on the ground, for Acxa to receive RSVP regrets that could have been written up as script treatments.

Narti looked up then, face solemn. “Look at this,” she said, and turned the laptop screen around for Acxa to read it.

Acxa’s hands tightened around the coffee cup, scorching her unprotected palm. There on the screen, tersely worded, was an emailed confirmation from a party who should have never been on the invitation list at all.

“Son of a bitch.”

Narti nodded. “I’m positive Lotor’s responsible for this bullshit.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
As he gingerly settled into the driver’s seat of his trusty Crosstrek, Hunk wondered if it was possible to contract a fatal boner. He wanted to prove to Keith that he was willing to wait for him no matter what, but Keith seemed to view that as more of a challenge than a promise. There had been a brief cessation of shenanigans during Keith’s birthday and the surprise visits which had ensued, but this morning at breakfast he’d sauntered in wearing flimsy little black and red shorts and a spandex top, and a smile that said the escapades were on again.

Hunk might be taking cold showers until his wedding day. Thank goodness that day was coming up soon. They’d been fooling around a lot, but Hunk was nearing a limit he’d never even realized was there. A car karaoke run-through of a song Hunk planned to sing to Keith at their wedding reception helped him get his libido back under control before he parked in his reserved spot and went into the hotel.

He nodded good morning to Ina Leifsdottir at her post behind the front desk. He nodded to Wolo as the beta made for the Beverly Wing’s elevator bank to relieve Regris, and to Marvin and Hutch as they took off for their downtime. He nodded to Rizavi and Ilun as they went over a duty roster together. He nodded to Shinji Ise who was waiting for him outside his office – oh, that couldn’t be good.

“Good morning, Garrett-san. I wonder if I might request a moment of your time.”

“Of course.” No matter his misgivings, Shinji was a guest, so Hunk might as well hear the fellow out. “Let’s step into my office. Would you like any coffee?”

Minutes later, Shinji sat in an occasional chair across from Hunk’s desk, both of them fortified by freshly brewed Peaberry Kona.

“I wish to take Shirogane-san on an outing for tea today,” Shinji said.

It took Hunk a second to remember that he was talking about Shiro’s stepmother. “We’d be more than happy to help you facilitate that,” he said. “There’s a lovely tea ceremony room inside a restaurant not far from here. Shiro has actually reserved one of their private dining rooms for tomorrow night, I’m certain our concierge can arrange something for today as well.”

“I have heard of the tea room of which you speak, and would happily accept your offer under different circumstances,” Shinji replied, fingertips tapping on the coffee cup. “You see, Shirogane-san is very much within his element in the Way of Tea, and I wish for him to be less complacent when I am conversing with him. A tea establishment of a different tradition would be better suited to that goal, I think.”

Hunk sipped excellent coffee while he thought that one over. Invite Shiro’s stepmother to tea, and then waylay him with the revelation that he’d been played by his own expectations. It really sounded like Shinji was looking to take Tatsuo off-balance to raise a discussion he’d been trying to avoid. Best guess that something was a someone named Kuro. Welp, if Shinji wanted to take that load off Shiro’s shoulders, more power to him. 

“There’s an establishment a short drive from here that serves afternoon tea in the style of an English tearoom.” That establishment was also technically a direct competitor, but Hunk doubted the family would decamp for there when Shiro was due to arrive at the Beverly Wilshire the very next day. “They have valet parking available, but I can arrange for a driver if you would prefer not to take your vehicle.”

“I appreciate the thought, but if I don’t take the rental for a spin while Izu-san is occupied, I may miss my chance.” Shinji’s eyes glinted with purpose in a manner that reminded Hunk that he was related to Shiro. “However, I would be in your debt if you were to find something for young Kuro to do while we are gone. Poor Izu hasn’t had a proper day off in the longest time, and our Kuro seems to have taken a shine to your betrothed.”

Had he? Hunk wasn’t all that surprised, most of the younger omega guests seemed to find Keith intriguing, like a cool older cousin who was allowed to stay out later than they were. Wait a minute, was Shinji suggesting that Hunk try to separate the vigilant bodyguard from his charge?

“You know, we do have babysitters on staff,” Hunk said, although really he thought Kuro was a little old for that, “if your retainer needs some personal time.”

“I think we both know Kuro is getting too old to be looked after like a baby,” Shinji basically confirmed Hunk’s suspicions, “but if your betrothed were to spend some time showing him that omegas are allowed to enjoy life in the public sphere, I would consider it as a personal favor to me.”

Coming from a member of Shiro’s family, that was no idle comment. Plus, maybe if Keith was busy keeping Kuro company, he’d be too busy to plot whatever temptation he had in mind this time.

“You can count on my help, Ise-sama.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Apparently Rachel had gotten a job at Shiro’s office, but does she ride into the office at the buttcrack of dawn with him? Noooo, she waits until Lance is going to class and then hitches a ride so she can corner him in the backseat with the privacy screen up.

“If you didn’t want to answer my questions, then you shouldn’t have had loud sex right above my room at dark o’clock last night and then used a vacuum cleaner after. What did you need to clean up with a vacuum cleaner?”

“Oh my God, why do you even want to know?” Lance hid his face in his hands.

“Because, Lance!” Rachel was not letting it go. “There is so much misinformation circulating about alpha and omega sexuality, it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s been blown out of proportion!”

Lance peeked out of his hands. “Are you planning on having sex with an alpha or omega?”

“I don’t know.” For the first time in the conversation, Rachel looked a bit taken aback. “Is it true that an alpha can ejaculate hard enough to rupture a beta’s uterus?”

“No.” 

“Are you certain of that, or are you just guessing?”

“Think about Rachel. If alpha jizz could do that, how would alpha condoms ever be effective?”

“Oh.” Rachel looked thoughtful. “Is slick really viscous enough to be used in place of motor oil?”

“Ahhh!” As Lance looked away from his sister, he caught a glimpse of Kai’s silhouette behind the privacy screen.

Was he laughing?

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“So you’re saying if I hang out with this kid today, then Shiro’s family will owe us a favor. Aren’t we already kinda tight with them, though?”

Keith lounged across from Hunk’s desk in the same occasional chair Shinji had been sitting in more decorously earlier. He hadn’t changed into his uniform yet, and speaking of things that were tight: his street clothes were continuing the spandex theme from breakfast.

“Technically we’re tight with Shiro,” Hunk replied, and thank goodness he was already sitting down. “His extended family is a whole other level. Besides, I think you’re right about the kid. Maybe if you spend some one on one time with him, he’ll talk to you.”

_♬ One on one, I wanna play that game toniiight ♬_

_Please not now, inner voice_.

“If I hang out with Kuro, can we use the car?” Keith had on a knit cap with a newsboy brim, and it was doing things for his eyes, and he obviously knew it with the way he was looking at Hunk.

Hunk managed to drag his gaze away from the boneless pose Keith had taken over that chair to focus a few surviving brain cells on the question. Keith had a driver’s license and was on Hunk’s insurance now, so there was no problem with him driving the car. He was due on shift, but if he was looking after an omega guest there shouldn't be any problems clearing the time with Ilun. He would be taking a minor off the premises, but if Hunk wasn’t much mistaken Shinji had been encouraging that very thing to happen, so theoretically no problems there either.

Maybe he’d even forget about the whole ‘turning Hunk into a puddle of man goo’ thingy.

“Okay.” 

Hunk fished his wooden turtle keychain out of his suit pocket and held it across the desk for Keith, who sprang up out of the chair to lean over the desk and kiss him on the mouth.

“Thanks babe.”

Keith’s eyes sparkled like tourmaline as he took the keys and sauntered out of the office with one more provocative smile thrown over his shoulder as he slid out the door.

Hunk ran back over the sequence of events in his mind while he fanned himself with a manila folder. “What have I just enabled?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
For day two, the class assignment was to create special occasion hair and makeup looks on each other. Veteran students had been paired off with new students and the veterans were up first. Lance had been partnered with Twyla, who had proceeded to question him politely yet thoroughly about what end result he was hoping to accomplish. She came across as such a consummate professional that Lance had relaxed and told her all about Keith’s wedding, and showed her the picture which Coran had messaged both him and Haruka that morning: a Grecian design with an asymmetrical neckline, in the color of a ripe clementine.

“It makes choosing a complementary color on the color wheel very simple, especially with your eyes,” Twyla flipped Lance’s fringe this way and that, “but is simple how you want to go?”

“It’s not really about what I want?” Don’t upstage the bride was rule numero uno in the honor attendant’s handbook. “It’s about what the bride wants.”

“Let’s test the boundaries of that assumption, shall we?”

Uh oh. “Let’s just don’t test it in a permanent fashion.”

Twyla took a set of hair chalks out of her kit bag. “Relax.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
｢Relax, Izu-san! You may spend the day with the blue-haired gal– ｣

｢Her name is Cinda-san.｣

｢– with no fears. Kuro-chan will be with Kogane-san all day, Garrett-san has assured me of this. Go, spend time with the girl, she asked you out to pick apples with her, yes?｣

｢If the weather permits｣

｢Then I must insist that you go out and have fun, lest the rain return.｣

  
*~*~*~*~*

Kuro took in every bit of sensory data around him, from the palm trees lining the streets to the coconut fragrance ( _alpha_ ) that seemed to be imbued in the seats, to the unfamiliar pop music pouring out of the vehicle’s speakers, until finally it occurred to him to ask, “Where are we going?”

Kogane turned a smile on him. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. “We’re stopping by my cousin’s place and then we’ll go shopping.”

“Will your cousin want us to stay for tea?” Kuro was dressed appropriately for walking outside in grey track pants and jacket over a white t-shirt, but he most assuredly was not dressed appropriately for a tea gathering. Maybe if it was just sencha.

Come to think of it though, Kogane was also dressed far too casually for tea. He looked over at Kuro with an unfathomable expression tightening his lips. “Don’t worry, my cousin shouldn’t be there, she’s on a post-production shoot for a TV movie. Somebody decided a Christmas movie about a taxi driver and Uber driver who fall in love needed an extended car chase sequence. It’ll probably just be my mom, she’s cool.” Then he smiled. “She might offer you something from a can. I hope you like soft drinks.”

“I like Royal Milk Tea,” he said hopefully. He hadn’t been allowed to have one for quite a while because his mother thought it was bad for his diet, but he remembered it tasting creamy and good.

“Really? You might like this, then,” Kogane said as he pushed buttons and tapped icons on the car’s console and then the music changed.

Electric bass thrummed louder and louder feeling like it was coming up through Kuro’s bones, reverberating in his jaw.

_♬ I think I got too many memories getting in the way of me ♬_

Kuro leaned back in the bucket seat, cradled by waves of electric guitar riffs that carried him away into the music as they soared onto a highway bleached the same color as the cloudy sky, with green road signs in romaji passing by at high speed.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Check it out.”

Twyla took the smock off Lance with a dramatic flourish and then gave him a hand mirror so that he could see his face and the front of his hair, and also the back in the lighted travel mirror she had set up on the tabletop.

“Whoa!”

Twyla grinned at his reaction. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It is!”

Lance felt no offense at her cockiness. He had the same attitude when he knew he was good at something, so he could respect that in others when it was earned, and this woman could draw. She had used the chalk to paint a crown of orange and blue pansies in his hair, and used her makeup brushes to paint petals falling from the crown all around his face.

“Do you want me to wash it out now?”

“No way, I want to wear this all day!”

Twyla laughed at his enthusiasm. “You know how to take it out yourself, right?”

“Brush as much out as possible, then wash and repeat with clarifying shampoo and conditioner, and follow up with an oil treatment.” 

This wasn’t actually the first time Lance had worn hair chalk, but he’d never managed anywhere close to this level of detail applying it himself. He turned his head from one side to the other, admiring the way Twyla had drawn the flowers so that even when the longer layer of hair on top shifted, they still read as a floral pattern.

Twyla nodded. “Very good. And no heat styling until the chalk is all gone. You gonna be ready to do my look after lunch?”

That would be a moment of truth, wouldn’t it? Lance might not have Twyla’s sketching skills, but he had other skills he could rely on.

“I’ll be ready.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith opened the stairwell doors onto an air-conditioned hallway painted a cool shade of mizu blue. Akane’s apartment in Little Tokyo was on the third floor of her building. Keith had rarely ever bothered with the elevator while he’d lived here and had just gone for the stairs on autopilot. Kuro kept up with him easily, so whatever else was going on with the kid, he was at least physically healthy.

Each apartment in this building had a deep enough threshold to accommodate a shoe rack, though not all the residents used it for such. Akane did, and when Keith sat on its bench-top to take off his shoes, he noticed his mother’s outdoor shoes sitting on the bottom shelf. After a moment’s hesitation, Kuro squeezed onto the bench beside Keith to take off his own sneakers. While they sat there divesting of their footwear, the front door opened revealing Krolia dressed for hanging around the house in a loose sweater over leggings.

“I was gonna knock,” Keith said sheepishly. Akane had never made him give back his keys, but since he’d seen solid evidence that his mother was home he would have knocked before just barging on in.

Probably.

“You know you’re welcome anytime sweetie.” Krolia smiled down at him and it made his throat feel strangely tight. “Who is your friend?”

“This is Kuro.” Keith turned to find Kuro up and bowing. “Kuro, this is my mom.”

After the introductions they went inside. Krolia was charmed with Kuro’s formal manners and went a step beyond what Keith had predicted she’d do by offering to make them sandwiches. Not long afterward they sat together around the apartment’s little round dining table sharing egg salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Keith now remembered that she used to make them this way for him when he was small.

“I was thinking about making this when I join Alana at her farmer’s market booth,” Krolia said after they’d all downed one sandwich and started on seconds.

“It’s gonna be a hit for sure.” 

Krolia beamed at Keith’s compliment. 

“Is Alana your alpha?”

Mother and son turned at Kuro’s curious comment.

“No sweetheart, she’s going to be my business partner.”

Kuro’s eyes widened in wonder. “Really?”

Krolia and Keith traded identical looks of perplexity. Granted, alpha-run businesses were still in the majority followed closely by beta-run businesses, but omega-run businesses were hardly unheard of. Was this child never allowed to leave the house, that he didn’t know that?

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
After what seemed like endless primping they were finally on their way. Shinji sat behind the wheel of the Toyota Sequoia, which the rental company had cleaned with something that smelled marvelous but still not as sweet as the peach blossom scent of the omega in the passenger’s seat. Shinji glanced to his side where Tatsuo sat elegantly straight, hands on knees, his naturally expressive face assiduously trained not to betray his thoughts. He still wore his shining black hair long on top, short in the back, a haircut he had adopted after his marriage. His egret-like neck still bore the claim mark, much faded since Ryu’s passing, but still visible if one knew where to look.

Introducing Tatsuo to his grieving cousin remained one of Shinji’s oldest and deepest regrets. He had only thought to offer a comforting diversion through the charming company of an expert in the social arts. A precious favor to one important to him, and to another growing in importance. Never had he foreseen what would happen next, but he should have. He knew what Ryu was like when he felt himself to be chased to the edge of an emotional cliff. Any metaphorical handhold that was available, he would take.

Pity he had not guessed what Tatsuo would do. Now there was a vulnerable youth whose existence had come about thanks to Shinji’s folly. Shinji felt the responsibility to Kuro acutely. He had done whatever he could to help Shiro, whenever he could, and never felt it to be enough. He would not stand idly by and watch the younger boy be consigned to an unhappy life if he could do anything to avert such a fate. He only hoped he could make Tatsuo listen to reason.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Akane hadn’t moved any of Keith’s old furniture out of his former room. The platform storage bed, flea market dresser and his old desk and chair were all still in there, along with the same clip-on lamps and poster frames. When Krolia had moved in she’d simply added plain cotton sheets, an area rug of low pile wool, and she’d put new posters in the frames since Keith had taken his vintage travel posters with him when he’d moved out. Keith could still see the same view of ceramic tile roofs out of the bedroom window that had greeted him every morning on waking when he’d lived here.

But the view wasn’t what brought him into the bedroom today. He stretched up on his toes to rummage in the far corner of the reach-in closet’s upper shelf. His fingers touched plastic, which crinkled as he fumbled it toward the edge of the shelf. He curled a fist around the old shopping bag and brought it out.

“Going trick-or-treating?” Krolia had stood by patiently waiting to see what her son needed from the bedroom, and now folded her arms with a smirk that told Keith she knew exactly what was in the bag.

“Something like that.” Keith peered in the bag. One cheap white nightdress, cosplay wig, a Halloween makeup compact and a string of wearable costume lighting, all still accounted for. Keith took out the light string and shook it. Yep, still worked. Ooh look, he even still had a few sticks of cheap incense in the bottom of the bag.

“Do you really think that’s going to fool Bob?” Krolia looked highly skeptical.

“It worked on that stupid Griffin kid.” Keith remembered with satisfaction the moment he fell on his ass trying to run backward. Good times.

“Who are Bob and Griffin?” Kuro looked over the items upended on the bed in open curiosity.

“Yes, who is Griffin?” Krolia asked.

“He was this dumb rich kid who took karate near where I went to Saturday school when I lived here,” Keith waved off her concern. “He used to try to walk me home even after I told him I wasn’t interested and could walk myself home just fine.” 

Keith had never felt himself to be in any danger he couldn’t handle on foot, especially in his own neighborhood, but Richie Rich had never expressed any interest in escorting him anywhere on or even near the bus and damn if Keith was just gonna hop in his Benz.

“He did not have your guardian’s permission to court?” Kuro asked knowingly.

“Akane? Hell, he didn’t have my permission to court.” Kuro gasped at the audacity, but Keith went on, “He was a persistent little jerk, until I scared the living daylights out of him in the tunnel one day.”

“Bob is not a dumb kid,” Krolia reminded him. “He is a grown man, and one who is more familiar with the ghost story you’re trying to evoke than this boy you tricked once upon a time.”

“Ghost story?” Kuro’s doe eyes went huge.

“Doesn’t matter if Bob actually believes it,” Keith insisted, “if other people hanging around the restaurant do, that’s even better.”

In their neighborhood, a business owner could have a spirit possessing their body nightly to tap dance on the ceiling, and they would still insist there was no haunting if there was even the slightest potential for customers to be scared away from their establishment. 

Kuro had a conflicted look on his face. Krolia looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“You are clever as a fox,” she said, “but do you think anyone will buy you as a yūrei in this fright wig with some rave lights, and what is this?” She took an incense stick out of the bag and sniffed. “This smells like the pop tart that time forgot.”

“Yeah, but it makes a huge cloud of smoke,” Keith said. Smoke was essential for the illusion of no feet.

“Do you think that Bob won’t recognize which family you came from under that makeup?” Krolia raised her eyebrows at her son. “You look like a Manabu.”

“I know.” Keith tilted his head back to look the ceiling in frustration. “I was gonna get a mask.”

“Sweetie.” Krolia took a step in his direction. “You don’t have to do this. Bob’s a dickhead, but I forgave him for it long ago.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.” Keith hunched in on himself. “You could have been here with me!”

The perfume of plum blossoms softly surrounded Keith as Krolia took him in her arms and scented him. “My sweet star. If I hadn’t gone into the service, I might never have met your father and had you, and that is worth everything to me.”

“Don’t say that,” Keith sniffled. “He was from Sawtelle, you guys would have probably met eventually, at a festival or something.”

“Maybe not for years.” Krolia rocked him like a small child. “We can’t know the unknowable and it will bring us no comfort to wonder what could have been.”

“I could portray the onryō for you.”

Keith and Krolia looked over to the bed, where Kuro was holding the nightgown up against himself to check the length. Kuro raised his head and smiled.

“This Bob person has never seen me before, and I’m good at dramatic dance. Even Haha says so.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Tatsuo seemed to get the first inkling that something was amiss when Shinji pulled up to a cobblestone porte-cochere with a fountain, where a valet in a two-piece suit stood ready to take the keys. Tatsuo threw Shinji a look that let him know that he was not amused, but he allowed the valet to hand him out of the SUV without comment.

Shinji led him into a vestibule floored in marble, ablaze with containers of boldly fragrant orange lilies, and crowned with a cage chandelier.

“Weren’t we just in a nice hotel?” Tatsuo asked archly.

“Peace, Tatsuo-san.” Shinji led him toward the reservations desk. “This place came highly recommended. Ise, party of two.” He nodded to the seating hostess, a tall rangy alpha in a well-tailored suit.

“Yes sir, right this way.” The hostess led them past low couches and tables and a view of the back garden and fountain out of sparkling clean windows. In one corner, tucked out of the way of the diners, sat a harpist filling the room with the stately cadence of a Handel concerto.

Shinji took a moment to admire Tatsuo out of the corner of his eye. The primping had not been in vain. He knew Tatsuo had kimono packed in his luggage, but today he had followed Shinji’s cue and worn a dark blue suit, choosing for himself a silk shirt in a lighter shade of blue that nearly matched Shinji's tie. He would have realized this was not a formal tea gathering as soon as he saw what Shinji had chosen to wear. Always socially prepared, that one, and never lacking for style, which made his recent behavior all the more troubling.

They arrived at their reserved table for two; lustrous mahogany with pad-feet and a pie-crust edge, with a salon dining chair on one side and a divan against the wall on the other, beneath watercolor landscape art. Shinji stood beside the chair until Tatsuo was seated on the divan. According to the rules with which Tatsuo was familiar, he had just been handed the seat of rank, but by local protocol Shinji had declared himself the ranked diner when he chose the first seat and waved Tatsuo to the other one. 

At least, that’s the way he presumed the staff here would interpret it. Tatsuo wouldn’t notice until the server came around and addressed Shinji first, but after that he’d be unlikely to forget it. He had always been a fast learner. When Shinji first met him, he’d been hungry for knowledge. He had eventually applied his sharp focus to learning Ryu, to the exclusion of other pursuits, but Shinji wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming that meant he’d gone dull.

Indeed, Tatsuo was looking over the table setting of delicate china, gleaming silverware and centerpiece of pink carnations with a critical eye. “Exactly what sort of tea gathering have you brought me to?”

“Nothing that should make you ill at ease.” Shinji lifted his cloth napkin from the place setting and made a show of refolding it and laying it across his lap so that Tatsuo could follow along. “I simply thought to introduce you to another facet of a familiar devotion, that is all.” When Tatsuo shot him a stern glance across the table, he said, “Oh come now, Tatsuo-san. You used to enjoy learning new things.”

It was at this precise moment that their server arrived: a tall, handsome and very young beta with floppy hair and a long apron under his waistcoat.

“Good afternoon and welcome,” he said, “my name is Sandu and I will be your server, so please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you need. I understand that you’ve preordered our Imperial service for today?”

“Yes,” Shinji replied, as that last had been directed to him, “that’s right.” 

He felt Tatsuo’s eyes upon him, trying to make out his intentions. The truth was, Shinji intended to be the only one putting him on the spot today. He wasn’t a beast.

“Shall I pour the champagne?” Young Sandu had the chiller bag over his arm.

“Please do,” Shinji said, so Sandu popped the cork and poured golden bubbly into two long-stemmed flutes waiting on the table.

He handed them each a menu containing the day’s tea selections and let them know he would return promptly with their caviar canapés. As soon as his strapping young back was turned Tatsuo’s eyes were scanning the menu.

“Brown rice tea?” he asked, scandalized.

Shinji hid his grin behind his own menu. “If you wish to appreciate the most illustrious options on this menu, I suggest that you turn your attention to those items marked out as traditional.”

Sandu returned with their amuse-gueule and took their tea orders. Shinji chose Earl Grey, for which he had developed a fondness over his years of travel. Tatsuo dithered and aimed mild insults at their forbearing server in Nihongo until he could finally be persuaded to try Black Currant. When Sandu left again, Tatsuo tasted a canapé.

“This fish roe is not abhorrent,” he said, which was as good as admitting he liked it.

“Try it with some champagne.” Shinji demonstrated. “It brings out the umami.”

He did, and Shinji enjoyed watching his mobile face reacting without artifice for a change. This was a Tatsuo whose company he had not been permitted to delight in for many years. He nearly forgot his self-appointed mission, until Sandu arrived with their respective pots of tea. He set down an hourglass tea timer alongside the stout pots and promised his prompt return.

When he did, he had their three-tier stand of refreshments and a silver jug of cold milk. The timer said the tea was ready to pour. Shinji gathered his mental resources as he watched Sandu lay strainers across their teacups and pour hot tea through them. After he had gone again, Shinji showed Tatsuo how to stir in the sugar and milk, moving the spoon back and forth without clinking the cup, then gently removing the spoon and laying it on the saucer behind the cup and to the right of the handle.

“The order of refreshments is served from the bottom tray to the top,” Shinji said as he served himself a smoked salmon finger sandwich from the bottom tray.

Tatsuo followed his lead, more cautiously than he had in his youth. Shinji still remembered a Tatsuo who relished in every new experience in the firm belief that he should live while he was able. Shinji refused to entertain the thought that it had merely been his stated belief. He had been too vibrantly alive for that to be false.

They chatted idly over the savories as Shinji pondered how best to raise the subject without causing Tatsuo to react in a manner that might get them tossed out. Ordinarily he would say that Tatsuo was far too socially adept to ever create a public scene, but these were not ordinary times and Tatsuo had not been behaving like himself in quite some time. Shinji had just shown him how to split the scones for jam and clotted cream, and then poured them both a second cup of tea when a serendipitous moment presented itself.

“Now I understand why Kuro-kun likes milk tea so much,” Tatsuo sighed after a sip.

Shinji seized the moment. “How are the preparations for his coming of age ceremony progressing?”

Tatsuo stiffened and looked studiously at his plate. “I have arrived at the decision that he should celebrate when he is twenty, along with the betas and alphas.”

“You want him to celebrate in the company of betas and alphas?” Shinji liked to think of himself as an open-minded man, but he could not believe what he was hearing. “Do you have any idea of the carrying on that occurs at those celebrations?” Shinji did, because he was a beta and he remembered the wild after-parties very well.

Tatsuo’s lips thinned as he continued to avoid making eye contact with Shinji. “Of course I would not make him go to those parties. He would celebrate with other omegas, I merely meant that he will be twenty.”

“Debuting alongside omegas who are sixteen and seventeen years of age?” Shinji set his teacup down on the saucer. “He will miss out on several years of potential to court.”

“He is not ready!” Tatsuo’s fingers gripped the teacup handle tightly enough to turn as pale as the china. “All those years I raised him to be an alpha. If he had been a beta it would not have set him back nearly so much, but he is omega and I have lost all of that time to prepare him. His hair is barely past his shoulders and he is not ready.”

“So you are growing out his hair intentionally.” Shinji had wondered about that. “Are you planning to send him to your okā-san to train at the okiya, then?”

Tatsuo was silent for a long moment, and Shinji wondered if he was thinking of the okiya where he’d been a guild member when they’d met, or the prior one which he’d left under mysterious circumstances.

“He is already too old to begin that training,” Tatsuo finally said.

“I seem to recall that you were eighteen years of age when Mizuki-san took you in.”

“I was already a half-jewel by that point, as you very well know,” Tatsuo scoffed, as he finally met Shinji’s eyes with a glare of familiar pugnacity. “The omegas of Kuro-kun’s age in the flower and willow world have several years of training by now, he would never catch up to them, if a reputable okiya would even agree to take him on so late.”

Although the age to begin apprenticeship as a geigi had risen among most dynamics due to compulsory schooling, omega candidates were still allowed to begin the training as soon as presentation, and often did. Tatsuo – or whatever his artist name had been before he’d had to change it – had done so, before leaving the flower street where he’d begun his apprenticeship and eventually finding a new mentor in Mizuki. Tatsuo had dropped hints that seemed to narrow his point of origin to somewhere in Kantō region, but Shinji wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been deliberately misleading. Rumors had abounded about Tatsuo’s shrouded past. Some said he’d been exiled, others that he’d fled, and that didn’t even touch on all of the possible reasons speculated as to why.

Whatever the reason, Mizuki had recognized raw talent and decided to nurture it, and Tatsuo had bloomed bright and fierce. Shinji wondered if Ryu had ever known where Tatsuo had come from or why he’d left, and then realized that of course he must have. He would have hired a private detective to check up on Tatsuo’s provenance as soon as he’d made up his mind that he was going to marry him, and then he would have secured the same detective’s services to cover up anything that might threaten to haunt him later.

“How will you launch Kuro into adulthood, Tatsuo?” Shinji tried to convey his honest concern through tone and eyes even as he dropped all pretense at social niceties. “If he is to go to an all-omega university for a formal education, then he will need to sit for exams first. He may need to attend a cram school, but you would know his academic levels better than I.” 

Tatsuo had no response to any of this. 

“Please Tatsuo, I only wish to help you secure Kuro’s future in any way that I can.”

“Then why does it feel as if you want to tear my only child from my arms?” Tatsuo asked.

Shinji realized then that he had misread the situation on one key factor. Far from withdrawing from the boy, Tatsuo seemed to be over-engaged to a point beyond rationality. Whatever in Tatsuo’s past was influencing his current behavior, Ryu had likely taken that knowledge to his grave.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The challenge with doing Twyla’s event look was that she wasn’t going to any major events anytime soon, so Lance couldn’t use the rules of a real event to guide his aesthetic. So he decided to take a page out of Twyla’s lookbook and start a conversation about her likes and dislikes while he cleansed her skin and spritzed some coconut water in her hair. By the time he was done with the initial prepping and the pop quiz, he’d realized that there wasn’t any kind of updo that could be done with Twyla’s hair without extensions, which she emphatically did not want. Her hair was very short, quite curly, and furthermore it was green and she liked it that way, so color enhancers were also out.

If he couldn’t alter the hair in any way, then he would decorate it. He applied a hydrating rose mask to Twyla’s skin before getting to work on his hair idea. He took his shears to a hairnet under her curious gaze and then took apart a decorative barrette and got some nail glue from the nail art station. When he was done, he set the homemade flapper-style tiara on Keitha’s head to dry while he rinsed the rose mask off Twyla in order to figure out her makeup look.

Underneath six pounds of eye makeup, Twyla was beautiful. Like, ‘classically pretty could probably get on TV with that face’ beautiful. She had thin contracture scars, one just below her right eye and another just above her right eyebrow, and it made Lance think of Keith and how his scar didn’t ruin his face; rather, it pointed like an arrow to just how damn pretty he was. Twyla had that going on too, though maybe she didn’t know it.

Lance played with the idea of giving her a flapper-inspired makeup look to go with the headband. Twyla obviously favored a smoky eye, although after talking with her for a while Lance had an idea that was more to do with hiding her scars than liking the style. Green eyeshadow would enhance her amber eyes, though, in addition to matching her hair. Lance decided he would start with a 20's style long, thin brow since brow-shaping hadn’t been taken off the table, and then go from there. 

After some judicious plucking, Lance chose a foundation to bring out the roses in Twyla’s cool, fair skin and then concluded he could use some elements of classic flapper makeup after all, just with a lighter hand. He set the foundation with rose water instead of powder, then applied green eyeshadow with just a touch of liner, and curled and darkened her lashes. Her lips already leaned toward bow-shaped, so Lance used a lip brush to fill in their natural curve with magenta, and then followed that up with a generous layer of Rosebud Salve. Last but not least, he smoothed some curl-defining lotion through her hair and then laid the tiara over it with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” 

Lance presented the hand mirror, which Twyla took and then stared at her reflection for an unnervingly long time. Lance was starting to sweat when she finally commented.

“I’m pretty?”

“Um, yeah?” Maybe Lance had been more right than he’d figured. “You’re like, super pretty.”

Another regular student named Antor leaned over from the chair where Moontow was taking his blond mop out of curlers. “Lookin’ good, L’Etoile!”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that compliment with a grain of salt, Antonov,” Twyla shot back, but she was smiling when she said it.

Lance thought the better testament of how well he’d done lay in the fact that she didn’t wash off the makeup and, in fact, wore that and the tiara out of the building when class let out. He was smiling himself as he packed up Keitha and the rest of his kit.

“Lance?”

Lance looked up to find Romelle standing before him expectantly. 

“Can we talk in my office?”

So this conversation was happening now? He was nervous, but he found a smile for her.

“Of course.”

The admissions office he’d been in before had several smaller offices attached to it. Romelle’s was one of those, and might actually have been a closet at one time, it was so narrow. Romelle had refurbished it stylishly in textured wallpaper and wireframe office furniture. Even so, they both had to shuffle sideways to get into their chairs.

“I just wanted to let you know that I have been watching your progress over the last two days and I see potential in you,” Romelle said. “But before we continue this line of discussion, I’d like to ask your opinion of Twyla’s work on you today. I see that you’re still wearing the look she chose for you. Are you satisfied with it?”

Oh boy. Lance knew a test when he saw one, no matter how charmingly relayed. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was being tested on, so he decided to just go with the truth.

“She got me,” he said, and felt it wasn’t quite strong enough to express what she’d done. “I mean, she really got me. Somehow she was able to see through my nervous babbling and bring out a hidden side of myself. She can do magic.”

“She’s gifted.” Romelle smiled and some of the tension ran out of Lance’s shoulders. “However, I sense a ‘but’ in your initial hesitation.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. 

“The assignment was supposed to be for an event,” Lance admitted reluctantly. “I told her all about the wedding I’m going to be in next week. I’m an honor attendant for my best friend, who’s the bride.” He pointed at his hair. “As much as I love this, I would never have been able to wear it. I’m not supposed to compete for attention with the bride.” 

“Well said.” Romelle looked very pleased. “You’ve succinctly summed up Twyla’s blind spot. She is, as you say, magical at teasing out the essence of a person she’s working on, but she has little regard for conventions, which is a necessity for styling any kind of formal function, save perhaps the Met Gala. I’ve been trying to steer her toward runway styling, but it is in her nature to challenge every suggestion put to her, so she responded to my advice by signing up for this class.”

“She’d be great in high fashion,” Lance agreed.

“Now let’s talk about you, because I’d love to find out how great you can be.” Romelle lifted an admissions folder out of her desk drawer. “How about it Lance? Are you ready for your future to begin?”

Lance’s happiness bubbled over. “Yes!” 


	7. Face To Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of traveling happens this chapter. Lance and Kuro finally meet. Shiro makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments!

  
It so happened that Marco had a valid driver’s license from Cuba which was all he needed to legally drive in New York for up to ninety days. This was fortunate because that meant he would be able to drive Rachel to work and his mother to the Hudson apartment while the rest of the household was in Los Angeles. Shiro wasted no time getting his insurance agent and the rental agency which he dealt with most often on the Eastern Seaboard into a conference call.

“I want to lease one of the safest cars in your fleet with an option to buy, and I need it delivered.”

Bright and early the very next morning, a man in a yellow and grey uniform dropped off a late model Hyundai Elantra with the keys and paperwork. Marco was beside himself when he was told.

“What if someone hits the car while I am driving it? Don’t you have an old station wagon I could drive them in?”

“Trust me, it’s simpler this way.”

While he certainly could have found a robust old tank of a car on short notice, he couldn’t have gotten top to bottom full coverage insurance on such a vehicle. Besides, the simple fact that Marco was so worried about wrecking the car reassured Shiro that he’d drive extra carefully. In any case he was about to find out for sure what Marco’s driving skills were like because he was going to be the one driving them to the airport.

Breakfast was a scene of chaos in three different languages as luggage migrated to the garden floor foyer while people snatched up fruit and toast from the kitchen island and drank copious amounts of coffee. Marco sat at the table reading through the Elantra’s owner’s manual like a participant in a speed reading competition. Lance hugged his mother and sister while Haruka used a hand scale to weigh every piece of luggage waiting by the door.

“Lance, why is there a bluetooth stereo speaker adding half a kilogram to your travel trunk?”

“Because, we’re going to need it to teach Keith the dance.”

“What dance?”

Lance and Haruka continued negotiating the placement of the stray speaker while Shiro stepped out into the back garden to make a phone call. Vertically-growing sasanqua camellias bloomed pink and white ruffles all over the fence line, adding their elusive tea perfume to the air, while the bare cherry tree hovered overhead like a protective hand. Shiro strode over stone pavers toward the patio furniture, taking his phone out of his jacket pocket and hitting speed dial.

_“Moshi Moshi.”_

“Hey Shinji, it’s Shiro.” He sat back in a wrought iron spring rocker, felt its tension coil and release under his weight. “We’re headed to the airport shortly. We should be checking into the Beverly Wilshire by 5 p.m. your time.”

_“Shiro, I’m glad you called.”_ There was the sound of a door closing. _“I’ve discovered more about the situation regarding your brother which you need to know. I was wrong about Tatsuo pushing the boy away. He is holding on too tight. He does not seem to want Kuro to grow up.”_

Shiro frowned. “I’ve heard it can be especially difficult for parents of omegas to let go.”

_“This is beyond sentimental attachment, Shiro.”_ Shinji sounded frustrated. _“He does not want to allow Kuro to take part in the coming of age ceremony with his cohort, and he has made no plans for his future as an adult.”_

This was really not what Shiro wanted to hear. “What does Kuro want?”

There was a long moment of silence. _“You know something, I hadn’t thought to ask. How embarrassing. I’ll get back to you on that, though.”_

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro carefully turned over in the large high bed to check that his mother was still asleep. Hahaue wore a sleep mask to bed, so the morning light streaming in through the open curtains had not woken him once in all the days they’d been staying here. Sure enough, Hahaue lay softly snoring and did not stir when Kuro continued to slide out of the bed.

Keith had told him to dress practical, so Kuro quietly changed into slacks, a t-shirt and an oversized hoodie. He knew better than to try to sneak toward the door letting into the hall. His mother seemed primed to hear him going that way even if Kuro was merely headed for the bathroom. So instead, he let himself out the balcony door, watching his mother like one would a sleeping bear the whole time.

Now came the part that was giving him true anxiety: letting himself back in through the living room. He had followed Keith’s directions to keep the latch from securing, but what if Izu had discovered his trick? But the door opened for him easily and he gratefully let himself into the larger space. He was feeling very self-congratulatory, until he noticed Shinji on the sofa drinking a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Kuro-san.” He smiled as if he had not just caught his younger cousin in an act of delinquency. “Would you like some coffee?”

If he was caught, why deprive himself of sustenance in his last moment of freedom? “Yes please.”

Someone had brought up a pot of coffee with milk and sugar, and a basket of pastries. Kuro wondered if it had been Keith or Farla. He served himself a cup of coffee with plenty of cream and helped himself to a buttery croissant. If Shinji had any thoughts on his profligate butterfat binge, he didn’t voice them. 

Instead, he sat down next to Kuro at the table with his own coffee and a blueberry muffin which he swiped from the basket as he took his seat.

“Kuro-san, I wondered if we might have a chat.”

Here comes the lecture on his unseemly manners.

“You see, I feel I have been negligent in regard to your state of mind.”

Kuro paused mid-bite of flaky pastry. So far this conversation was not going where he had expected it to go.

“Kuro-san, what would you like to do?”

Kuro sat up straight, swallowing the whole bite of croissant in his surprise. Was this real life?

“I want to hang out with Keith today!”

Shinji blinked. “I suppose that’s perfectly fine.”

Yes! Now he had permission and Hahaue would have to take it up with Shinji if he didn’t like it!

“However, what I really meant was, what would you like to do with your life?”

Kuro’s brow tightened in suspicion. Was this one of those trick questions like he used to see pop up on exams?

“Haha is still asleep.”

“I am not asking your mother, Kuro-san, I am asking you.” Shinji leaned forward earnestly. “Please believe that I am serious.”

Kuro’s belly coiled in apprehension. He had not thought much about the future except as a passing of the seasons in which he might eventually please Hahaue enough that he would try to secure a match with an alpha as good as Chichiue had been. Except courting had not been mentioned by Hahaue in months, so Kuro had assumed that option was no longer acceptable, and he honestly wasn’t sorry about it. Marriage sounded kind of scary to him.

“What are the things that I could do?”

Shinji looked like someone had knocked the breath out of him, but Kuro didn’t understand why. Honestly, there were so many things improper for omegas to do that he shouldn’t have been surprised by the question.

“I suppose you’re already aware of the courting option.”

“I’m not ready to be married,” Kuro replied quickly. “It’s not just because Haha says so, I’m really not ready.”

“That’s a start.” Shinji smiled encouragingly. “It’s good to know your own mind on this. As to what you could do, why, there are a number of career paths you might consider. I believe you would need more schooling for most of them. Perhaps you can bring it up in conversation with Kogane-san today, he may know more about that.”

“I can really go?”

“Of course.” Shinji spared a glance toward the door behind which Izu still slept. The security guard was on Hahaue’s schedule. “Just make sure you’re home in plenty of time to dress for the evening meal. We have reservations tonight.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“The seats are heated!” Marco couldn’t seem to get over that feature, because he wouldn’t shut up about it.

Maybe Lance had become a little bit spoiled, but he was already over it. Or maybe he was over it because he was in the backseat baking in the body heat coming off Shiro and Haruka, between whom he was squoze. He was practically riding in his man’s lap and couldn’t even properly indulge in that fact because Haruka’s pointy elbow was on his other side.

Kai had been given the front passenger seat, probably on account of Shiro thinking he could act as a human chicken brake if Marco got into trouble. Lance could have told them both that Marco had always been an adroit driver, and that his previous experience had been in vehicles with no power steering, tires held together with heavy duty tape and prayers, and engines requiring more babying than a newborn chick. In this fully loaded trim with a ridiculous number of automated driver assist features there was no way he wasn’t going to get the hang of it. 

They coasted off the Queensboro Bridge and gradually left the highrises and heavier traffic behind as they continued on the interstate, a pleasant female voice delivering directions from the onboard navigation system all the while. When he’d talked about the trip with Twyla the previous day she’d asked why they didn’t just go to LaGuardia, because it was closer to the East Side. Lance had shrugged and offered an excuse about bonus miles, but he knew why Shiro had really chosen to drive farther to JFK. It had longer runways to accommodate larger aircraft, which meant shorter flights were available, even domestically.

Shiro confronted his fears on a regular basis, a confirmed believer in immersion therapy, but Lance had learned that his approach was more about managing his reactions than slaying dragons. He only deliberately sought out situations that would high-key stress him out when he thought he’d done something to deserve it, or when he wanted something so much he felt it was worth it. Lance reached beside him for Shiro’s hand and squeezed. Shiro, who had been staring broodily out the car window, looked over and blessed him with a beautiful smile, and squeezed back.

“Heated seats!”

Lance was going to enjoy the hell out of teasing Marco about this later.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Keith had said he’d be waiting outside the front entrance. Kuro stepped off the elevator under the curious gaze of the operator and strode across the lobby. _Project confidence_ , Keith had said, _and nobody’ll mess with ya_. So far it seemed to be working.

“Going out, serah?” the doorman asked as Kuro stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“I have permission,” he replied, chin lifted. He peered around for signs of Keith and he didn’t have to look far.

“Yo.” Keith leaned against the passenger-side door of a red Fairlady Z parked at the curb. He was dressed head to foot in black. Even his fingerless gloves were black. “Ready to go?”

“I’m ready!” 

Kuro wished his own ensemble had more black, instead of mostly grey. His mother never let him wear very much of that color, always told him that black was for mature omegas, not unclaimed youths. Maybe wearing black was something he should tell cousin Shinji he wanted to do. He was named for it, after all, surely that was reason enough for him to be allowed to wear it when he pleased.

Keith ushered him into the passenger seat, which had a plush red cover over it, before going around to the driver’s side, waving and trading greetings with the doorman as he went. As Keith slung himself into the low bucket seat, Kuro noticed this car was filled with a cinnamon scent that was much louder than the coconut scent of the other vehicle.

“What alpha uses this car?” he couldn’t help asking. The scent was... he wasn’t sure how to express it. Kind of scary. But also kind of good? He hadn’t been around many alphas besides Chichiue since he’d presented and his sense of smell had sharpened enough to really notice them.

Keith raised his eyebrows at Kuro as he pulled away from the curb. “This is my cousin’s car, she’s letting me borrow it while she goes on a date with my future brother-in-law.” He grinned. “Maybe you’ve got a type. Got any curfew we need to worry about breaking today, Champ?”

Kuro pouted. “Itoko said to be back before the evening meal because we’re going somewhere fancy tonight.” He didn’t know why. They hadn’t been anywhere fancy any of the other nights.

“Then let’s make the best of the time we’ve got,” Keith said.

He opened the throttle and the car shot forward with a thrilling roar. Kuro whooped out loud, not caring whether that made him look unrefined.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
After enduring two long flights interrupted by a layover not quite long enough to justify checking into a hotel room, Colleen had finally fallen into a bed at her destination airport's Sheraton fully clothed without even arranging for a wake up call first. She sat up blearily amid the fluffy pillows. The digital readout on her cell phone said it was morning, which meant local time was late afternoon. Somewhere in this room was a coffee pot, and then she’d order something to eat from room service, and then she’d indulge in a long hot shower. 

She still had to see about renting a car. She knew Ryan would find a way to come pick her up if she asked, but that might risk ruining the surprise. She was certain that co-interested parties at Interpol were already aware she was here, but she wasn’t worried about that. There was only one overconfident rake that she didn’t want to tip off, and since that meant staying off the radar of some of his associates as well, she’d go to Ryan instead, and not before it was time.

First thing’s first, though. She picked up her phone to check in with her husband.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
When they’d come to New York from L.A. weeks ago, Lance’s citizenship status was still in flux, so Shiro had gotten them private berths by train and sent Kai on ahead through LAX with an upgraded plane ticket. So, this was Lance’s first time encountering airport security. He had to take off his shoes, and all electronics had to be put in the bins. No wonder Haruka had been so insistent that the bluetooth speaker be put in the top zipper compartment of his carry-on bag. 

At least Haruka didn’t have to go through the full-body scanner. Shiro and the Shinobus all had Global Entry, but Lance’s application was still being processed so through the naked scanner he went, where a bored-looking agent raised an eyebrow at the location of his bondmark, but let him through with no comment. The others still had to go through the metal scanner though, and the buzzer went off as soon as Shiro stepped under it. He handed over his medical card explaining his orthopedic implants, but he still had to empty his pockets into a tray and submit to a hand detector.

“Happens every time,” he said to reassure his worried betrothed now waiting on the other side of the checkpoint.

Lance could sense Shiro’s underlying irritation at the delay, though, like heat shimmer on hot asphalt. If this was what happened with only a partial bond he wondered how much more intense it would become when their bond was complete. Finally, Shiro was waved through. He took Lance’s hands as he joined him, and gave him a soft kiss on the mouth.

“See?” Shiro kissed him again. “It’s fine. We won’t even have to do that again until the return flight.”

He kissed him a third time, and light flashed behind Lance’s eyelids. Did someone just take a picture? Lance looked around when the kiss broke but he didn’t see anyone with a camera.

“We don’t have time to waste on sentimental airport smooches.” Haruka shoved through the milling crowd with Kai at her back. “We have to buy the presents before boarding begins!”

“I thought we were shopping for wedding presents after we get there?” Lance had been kind of looking forward to giving Coran some more of his business, and maybe the salespeople at Terra too.

“Not wedding presents,” Haruka said, “the souvenirs!”

“My family will expect them,” Shiro confirmed. “It doesn’t need to be extravagant, just a token representing New York City. They probably brought something with them for us as well.”

They scattered in the retail hall like mad squirrels, but not before Haruka warned Lance three freaking times that he should look for items that were exclusive or at least limited edition. Lance had learned the hard way that when Haruka got uptight about something, she usually had a good reason (even though he still thought she was overdoing it just a smidgen). But Lance had grown up in a tourist trap. He knew how to pick out souvenirs that the whole family would like. He got this.

He got a pound of M&Ms with the famous I♥NY logo for the bodyguard, a Coach New York money clip for Shiro’s cousin which the store clerk assured him could be monogrammed for free at any larger Coach store, a mini eau de parfum set from Michael Kors for Shiro’s stepmother because he’d been staring at brand names for so long he was starting to lose his objectivity and Michael Kors was from New York, right? It was when he was trying to figure out what to get for Shiro’s little brother that he started to realize that maybe he don’t got all of this.

What do you get for a sheltered omega teenager you’ve never met before who probably already has everything he needs? Lance had never been sheltered and he was barely still a teen himself. Did he even know what was considered cool anymore?

It was time to call in reinforcements. Keith had this thing about watching the sunrise. Maybe he hadn’t gone back to bed yet.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The morning sky over the farmer’s market was cotton-balled with dingy clouds, but the threat of rain wasn’t stopping the throngs of shoppers seeking out deals and meals. The Sweet and Savory Sisters’ enclosed tent had a line growing in front of it, with Krolia’s egg salad on Alana’s sweet bread selling so well they were on the verge of running out of supplies. Keith felt fortunate that he’d gotten his fill the day before, and decided to order from the booth’s other offerings instead so that they wouldn’t run out of their hot-ticket item any faster.

He leaned against a nearby tree with his square of chocolate butter mochi, savoring the crisped corners and custardy center. Kuro had already eaten his share and gotten thirsty, so Keith gave him a little money and sent him over to the pupusa tent to get them each an agua fresca. They’d done some light shopping the day before too, ambling around Weller Court and visiting the jeweler about Hunk’s ring, before buying a paper lantern on a stick and a large black tablecloth. Kuro had maintained that would be all he’d need to convince onlookers that he had no feet when they eventually unleashed their prank.

The kid kind of had a fixation on black. When they’d arrived at the farmer’s market, they’d encountered a booth right next to the parking lot selling screen-printed black t-shirts, and Keith had to promise Kuro they’d look again on the way out just to keep him moving. He didn’t know how long his mother-in-law was going to have the booth open and he didn’t want to miss his mom’s debut. Hopefully that vendor was still there or else he was going to have to find the nearest Hot Topic whenever they left.

Keith’s phone chimed a text message alert. He thumbed open the app.

_halp keith im sposed to buy a present for shiros lil bro and I don’t kno whats cool nemor but u r cool so plese halp me!_

Lance was so lucky Keith was around to save his ass. This was almost embarrassingly easy.

_get him black cloths_

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
They reconvened in the airline lounge with enough time before boarding to drink espressos around a coffee table and have Haruka critique the souvenirs. Mostly Lance’s. Cousin Shinji’s gift was actually deemed acceptable, score one for Lance. The bodyguard’s gift was met with, “A pound?”

“You want me to give him a snack size like from a gas station?” Lance defended his choice. “That would be lame!”

Haruka relented, then read him the riot act for buying heavy fragrance for a middle-aged Japanese omega.

“I didn’t know wearing perfume could be considered as offensive as B.O., okay? Besides, this stuff is designer!”

It was Shiro who came to Lance’s defense this time. “The perfume is beautifully packaged enough to look good on display, so it’s got novelty value even if Mamahaha never wears it.”

Haruka acknowledged this judgment was sound, but then out came Kuro’s present. Haruka started making squeaky noises as the group stared down at a pair of black velour track pants with JUICY written in huge letters on the seat of the pants. Shiro, the traitor, started laughing.

“I was following Keith’s recommendation, and anyway it’s from one of the last retail stores still open in the United States, so that’s got to be exclusive or something!” And there were no retail locations open in Japan at all. He’d asked.

“You cannot honestly tell me that Keith told you to buy this.” Haruka pointed at the track pants as if her finger could light them on fire.

“He told me to buy black clothes!”

Haruka lost her ability to form complex sentences. “Pants on the bottom!” She wrung her hands as if she could wring meaning from that statement, then smacked the pants right on the JUICY. The decal was holographic so it reflected a cheerful rainbow of primary colors in the wake of the flattening.

“Do you have any idea how stressful it is to shop for a teenager?” Lance asked.

He tried to appeal to Haruka’s sense of pity but she didn’t have any. In the end, she frogmarched him back to the shop to return the JUICY pants, but they wouldn’t take a return, only an exchange, so he exchanged it for a velour black hoodie with the crown logo embroidered on the hood. They barely made it back in time for the first boarding call, with Haruka roasting him all the while.

“– cannot believe you bought pants for an adolescent omega promoting him as juicy!”

As God was his witness, he had only been thinking about the product branding on account of Haruka had stressed it so much. “Please have mercy on me!”

“Like a billboard on his hindquarters!”

Haruka finally settled down as they boarded the plane, not because Lance was begging for her mercy but because her husband had joined Shiro in laughter and she must have realized she was just making it worse.

The first class cabin was set up in a 2+2 configuration, with dreampop playing through the PA system as the passengers found their seats. Shiro offered Lance the window seat and Lance obligingly took it, picking up the pillow and folded blanket from the seat and leaning back on nicely padded leather. He popped down the footrest and stretched his legs in front of him as Shiro reclined in the aisle seat. Kai and Haruka were seated on the other side of the aisle from them.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Kuro would have been offended by the pants,” Shiro said. 

Lance could feel Shiro’s amusement still burbling under the surface like a happy brook. That and the comfortable seat were almost enough to make him let go of his mope. Then Shiro said something kind of out of left field.

“Your sister reminds me of him, just a little bit.”

“Rachel?” Nothing Shiro had said about Kuro sounded anything like Rachel to Lance.

“The last time I saw him was at our father’s wake.” Shiro sobered. “He was in preheat and um, he was very fragrant. Enough so for his scent to be detected over the incense. He was attracting the attention of some alphas at the wake, associates of our father sitting behind us. He didn’t have a clue of the affect he was having on them. It bothered my stepmother so much he held Kuro back from the remaining funeral rites.”

Shiro’s levity leveled off into gravity.

“What’s bothering you, querido?” Lance could feel it now, a like a deep water current that had been flowing unnoticed under Shiro’s surface emotions.

“It may be nothing.” Shiro tried to smile.

“Let me help carry the weight.” Lance reached across the armrest for Shiro’s hand. “Please.”

Shiro clasped the offered hand between his palms. “There may be trouble between my little brother and my stepmother. Shinji seems to think I’ll need to step in.”

Across the aisle, Kai and Haruka had stopped their quiet conversation and were silently listening.

“If there’s trouble then we’ll all face it together,” Lance said.

The Shinobus nodded firmly as Shiro looked between them and his promised one.

“Together,” Shiro said. “All right.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
When Tatsuo emerged from the master suite in a lined black yukata covered in red roses, Shinji was not at this point surprised when the first words out of his mouth were, “Where is Kuro-kun?”

“Good day Tatsuo-san. Would you care for some breakfast?” Shinji gestured magnanimously at the spread. He had convinced the room service chef to deconstruct the ahi tuna sandwich to make it more palatable to Tatsuo’s breakfast tastes as he remembered them to be.

“You’re being awfully nice to me,” Tatsuo said with suspicion shadowing his tone, but he accepted a serving plate from Shinji’s hands and began to load it with grilled tuna and pickled onions. “Where is my son?”

“He is with Kogane-san,” Shinji replied, helping himself to a few of the sweet potato fries, “but do not be concerned, he promised to return here in plenty of time for our dinner reservations.”

“What dinner reservations?” Now Tatsuo sounded annoyed as he flounced into a dining chair. “It is far past time we continued on to New York. What is keeping that fool at the airline from finding us a suitable flight?”

“This is where I have good news for you.” Shinji poured them both a cup of coffee, which Tatsuo accepted since he could no longer pretend to Shinji that he didn’t have a taste for the stuff. “Shiro-san has heard of our plight and arranged to come here to us. We will be dining with him and his betrothed tonight at a restaurant which I have heard serves omakase with a lovely presentation.”

“Tonight?” Tatsuo gulped on his coffee. “I must get ready. I must get Kuro-kun ready!”

“Relax and enjoy your breakfast, Tatsuo-san.” Shinji stole some more fries. “There is plenty of time, and the proprietors of this restaurant will not be bothered if anyone arrives in Western attire so long as it is tasteful. Shiro-san has booked a private dining room, so nobody will see us except each other and the wait staff in any case.”

“Will they provide a bench for Izu-san to wait for us outside of this dining room?”

Shinji could tell from the fixed look upon his face that this time Tatsuo was going to wear a kimono regardless of Shinji’s thoughts on the matter.

“There will be no need for that. Shiro-san’s retainers are coming with him and I am told they plan to entertain Izu-san while we are gone.”

“Then who will drive us to this restaurant?” Tatsuo fretted.

“I am perfectly capable of doing that, and so is Shiro-san.” Shinji thought it over. “So might his betrothed be, come to think of it. It did not occur to me to ask about that, perhaps I should have.”

“I suppose it’s just as well.” Tatsuo tried a sweet potato fry. “Izu-san has been far too lenient with Kuro-kun lately.”

Shinji sipped his coffee. “Actually, he left with Kogane-san on my permission, not Izu-san’s.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ I was dreaming when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray ♬_

Kuro had wanted to listen to music again and Akane had left her _1999_ album in the cassette deck, so Keith had decided to introduce his virginal ears to the Purple One. The t-shirt seller had still been there when they walked out of the farmer’s market. Keith had let Kuro pick out a t-shirt, his treat. It was solid black with the word NO screenprinted on it in white. In the dressing room mirror Kuro had thought it read ON, and Keith had not corrected him on that point.

Kuro had been thoroughly enchanted with the gift and was currently wearing it while seat dancing. “Keith, may I ask you a question?”

Keith tapped his hands on the steering wheel to the funky beat. “Sure, what’s up?”

“How did you decide what you wanted to do with your life?”

Keith’s fingers stopped tapping. “To be honest, I’m still figuring that out.”

“You mean, you don’t know?” Kuro sounded shocked. 

Going straight from ‘how to sneak out’ to the most ponderous questions of life was a bit much, did the kid expect a thesis in response?

“I’m barely old enough to legally drink, nobody has it all worked out straight out of the gate.”

“You have just come of age,” Kuro said as if in dawning understanding.

“I just came of age to drink booze,” Keith corrected him, although that had really only been a formality. “Technically I came of age to do everything else a few years ago.”

Kuro stared out the windshield, brow furrowed. “I was going to come of age after the new year, but Haha says I’m not ready and that I will have to wait. But then Itoko asked me what I want to do with my life, so maybe I will be coming of age after all.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to get married yet,” Kuro said immediately.

“Knowing what you don’t want is as good of a place to start as any,” Keith said reasonably.

“That’s what Itoko said too.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“How did you know when you were ready to get married?”

Keith smiled wryly. “I met a guy who made me rethink my assumptions about settling down with one alpha.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Gotta admit kiddo, I thought I’d be bringing this out of storage for Jiro before giving it to you.”

Hunk shrugged into the black haori jacket with his father’s help. Jin had been the last one to wear it, and father and son were roughly the same size. They stood together in front of the full length mirror in Hunk’s walk-in closet. The family crests stood out in white against the haori’s field of black: a rabbit in the moon inside the lip of a bell.

The garment still smelled mildly of the cedar box it had been stored in, as well as the camphor cubes that had been placed inside the box to repel moths. It had some creases from being folded for so long. Hunk would leave it on its telescopic clothes hanger for the next few days to see if any of the creases fell out, and use an iron on a low setting with a press cloth for any that remained. This was the only part of the Seidou formalwear left in their possession to be passed down from father to child, so Hunk aimed to be a good custodian for his turn.

“You don’t think I’m rushing this, do you?” Hunk met his father’s eyes in the mirror.

“Do you?” Jin asked.

Hunk gave it the long moment of consideration it deserved, weighing his feelings. “No.” His only qualms over the speed with which their nuptials approached was the three ring circus their wedding was turning into. But that was just one day in the rest of their lives. He could get through one hectic day. It would be worth it in the long run.

Jin patted him on the shoulder, smiling proudly. “There you go.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Flying cross-country first class was the most idle time Lance had ever spent in Shiro’s company, and that included the two day train ride earlier that month. They’d been served a three-course meal an hour into flight time, with nothing to do afterward but nap and watch movies that weren’t on Netflix yet. Lance did enjoy watching fluffy clouds scudding right past his window and tinker toy towns far below, for a little while. The possibility of joining the mile high club crossed his mind, but it only took a peek across the aisle at Haruka suspiciously glancing back at him to frighten the boner away. 

Upon landing and disembarking, Shiro called for a shuttle while they all stood around baggage claim waiting for their suitcases to rotate within reach. Why did just sitting in a moving vehicle for hours make a body feel so draggy? The shuttle, which was a passenger van almost as big as a bus, picked them up and ferried them to the rental office, where they were treated to cold soft drinks while they finalized the paperwork to collect their car keys. Since this was a pleasure trip and not business (although Lance had overheard Shiro on the phone to Hawkins Aircraft Company during the long plane ride and knew he was going to find a way to mix the two) the reservation was for two cars: one for the Shinobus and the other for Shiro and Lance.

The Shinobus got their keys first, and were in their rental idling at the curb when Shiro and Lance exited the building a few minutes later. Haruka sat behind the wheel of the little Prius hatchback, Kai fully reclined in the passenger seat next to her and looking perfectly content to be the one driven. Haruka leaned over him to speak to Shiro out of the open window.

“I have the address programmed into the navigation app, do you wish for us to wait?”

“That’s alright, you two go on ahead,” Shiro replied, “Leifsdottir at the front desk should have everything ready for check-in when you get there.”

Haruka steered off into Los Angeles traffic. Lance took Shiro’s hand as they stepped around the side of the building to where their own rental was parked. He hadn’t been paying close attention to the conversation at the counter so he hadn’t really caught what they were getting, aside from it was a Chevy.

“Are you gonna let me drive our grocery getter?” Lance asked.

Shiro smirked. “If we can get the keys away from your brother, sure.”

Oh, that was cute. But then they rounded the corner to find one of the rental agency employees loading their luggage into the tiny trunk and slightly larger back seat of a sleek, black, soft-topped– 

“Little Camaro!” Lance jumped in place.

Shiro grinned outright. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

“You know me and my ways.”

They collected the keys from the smiling employee and buckled into jet black bolstered seats. The car started with a rolling growl. Lance purred. 

Shiro laughed. “We aren’t even out of the parking lot yet.”

“Come on baby let’s shake!”

Shiro laughed again and put the top down, and into the hazy afternoon they went.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_“We can leave as soon as we like!”_ Luis’s voice was jubilant on the phone. _“We have to negotiate the travel arrangements, but with any luck we’ll be on our way to join you very soon!”_

“Mijo, that is wonderful news.” Vibiana sat on the sofa of the apartment that would in due time become the residence of her younger daughter; that very daughter sitting on the opposite sofa next to Marco. “Let us help you with the travel arrangements.” Her heart filled like a spring tide with the knowledge that her family would be reunited.

“I might be able to help with that.” Vibiana’s old friend Flaco (also known as Darrell, but to her he would always be Flaco) sat on the sofa beside her. “I travel a lot and I have contacts in that industry. I could help you book affordable flights.”

She had invited them all over to look at her progress on Lance’s frock and get their honest opinions, and also to test out the kitchen with a pot of carne con papas. This proved to be fortuitous, for they had all been together when Veronica made the conference call with Luis on the line. Rachel’s new cell phone sat face-up in speaker mode on the coffee table between the couches.

_“We’ll help too,”_ Veronica’s voice broke through excited chattering in the background of both calls.

“May La Cachita watch over you on your journey back to us, mijo.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Returning to the penthouse suite at the Beverly Wilshire had Lance feeling a little nostalgic. Even though it hadn’t been that long since he’d left, it really wasn’t the same this time. No longer was Lance an unregistered guest but now officially Shiro’s intended, and as such the law said he had to sleep in a separate bedroom in the suite. Moreover, Haruka and Kai had already claimed the foremost of the two extra bedrooms off the hall behind the kitchen, so if Lance were to try to sneak into the master bedroom from his assigned room, he’d have to be clever about it. Like a ninja assassin. 

Kai and Haruka were sharing the larger extra bedroom, the one with the full-sized secretary desk so that they could be industrious even though they were supposed to be on vacation. Lance had been given the smallest of the three bedrooms, tucked well away from easy access without going past either Shiro or his retainers – an appropriate arrangement for a chaperoned omega, but a potential hitch in Lance’s stride. His own room also had a desk, though a much smaller one more suitable for jotting off a postcard than catching up on the household accounts, and it had a velvet-covered chair with its own footstool where Lance could lounge like a dilettante, mentally composing an ode to Shiro’s nether regions while trying to decide if he should put on pants or just stay in his robe all day. The sweetest find was the glass-paneled door that opened directly onto the balcony, which Lance knew went all the way around to Shiro’s bedroom window.

He yanked the grommet drapes shut. Haruka must never guess the existence of this door. Or, if she already knew about it, she must never guess that Lance possessed the brass cojones to slink outside in the middle of the night in his dressing gown to go tap on Shiro’s window. He rolled his travel trunk to a stop in front of the door as an extra precaution, and set his carry-on bag down on top of the chenille bed scarf.

He rummaged around inside the carry-on for his toiletry kit and took it into the attached bathroom, generously tiled in blue-veined marble. The bathroom was small but complete, with a frosted glass shower stall just big enough for one person to turn around in, a sink and vanity with adequate space for one traveler, and a square soaking tub only big enough to comfortably fit one adult. Lance slid aside a pocket door and found a tiny alcove with a bidet toilet. This little suite had surely been designed with the unmated omega in mind.

Lance took in his appearance in the framed mirror over the vanity. His hair was windblown and his cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline rush of speeding down the freeway in a Camaro with the top down. They’d taken the scenic route all the way to Santa Monica before finally turning northeast and heading to the hotel. So worth the detour, even though he now smelled like smog and would for sure have to shower before dinner.

“Hey, did somebody call for omega services?”

Lance abandoned the bathroom at the familiar voice from the bijou anteroom just outside his bedroom. He ran to the door and flung it open, and there was Keith, dressed in his customary goofing off uniform of black on black.

“Keith!”

“Hey there, you dork,” Keith laughed as Lance grabbed him up in a fierce hug. He was not a touchy-feely person as a general rule but he’d long grown tolerant of the fact that Lance was.

Reflexively, Lance sniffed at his shoulder and caught the smells of car exhaust, Keith’s fondly-missed chocolatey scent, Hunk’s comforting coconuty scent, an alpha prime who smelled like cinnamon in a way that never failed to remind Lance of his sister Veronica but if memory served was actually Keith’s cousin, and another omega whose scent had a beguiling quality that Lance couldn’t quite pin down.

“You smell like traffic and alpha,” Keith said into Lance’s shoulder.

“So do you, dude.”

“Hey, listen.” Keith leaned back to look Lance in the eyes. “Can I ask for a favor?”

“Sure,” Lance agreed with no hesitation. “What do you need?”

“My friend needs to borrow a shirt from you.”

“I don’t want to take off my shirt!” came a tetchy young voice from just around the bend where the little anteroom let into the suite’s main hall.

“I know you don’t buddy, but my cousin’s scent transferred onto your clothes more than I expected, and that could wind up getting us in trouble.” Keith stepped over to the anteroom’s narrow entryway to face the mystery guest out in the hall. “Please?”

It wasn’t common, but unintended scenting could happen between unmated alphas and omegas, especially if one or the other of them was a prime. 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” the person, a young male by the sound of it, acquiesced quickly. “I will wear your friend’s shirt, but I’m still keeping this one.”

“Fair enough.” Keith stepped back. “Come on in, it’s just us omegas in here.”

Cautiously, an ebony-haired male omega, both taller and younger than the other two already in the anteroom, stepped through the doorway. It immediately became apparent that this was the omega whose scent Lance had caught on Keith’s sleeve, because it was stronger now, its owner subconsciously emitting a self-comforting zone around himself. The younger omega turned, and that’s when something else became apparent.

“You are Ani’s betrothed,” said the boy bearing Shiro’s face.

“If you mean Shiro, then yep, that’s me. I’m Lance.” He held out his hand. “You’re Kuro, right?”

Kuro stared at the offered hand in bewilderment.

“You shake it,” Keith said.

Kuro gingerly grabbed Lance’s wrist and flopped his hand up and down. Lance gently reclaimed his hand and briefly clasped Kuro’s.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Kuro smiled hesitantly, and now that they stood closer Lance noticed the ways in which he looked quite different from Shiro. His eyes were darker, his skin smooth and opaque as fresh cream where Shiro’s was more translucent like white tea. Kuro’s hairline was a hair lower than Shiro’s, his brow ridges a bit less pronounced, the curve from his cheekbones to his jaw slightly softer, and his chin was a smidgen smaller, most likely owing to the difference in hormone levels. Then there was that scent, unfurling like a slow-blooming flower, which nobody would ever mistake for alpha.

But Kuro had indeed picked up a strong alpha scent from Keith’s cousin, so they must have been hanging out at her place or using her car. The younger omega was wearing a grey hoodie and slacks with a black t-shirt that read ‘NO’ in giant letters on the front, so Lance totally wasn’t on the wrong track with the pants, _Haruka_. But then he got an idea.

“I think I can do you one better than changing t-shirts,” he said, and he walked into the bedroom to sort through his carry-on bag for the package. “Come on back guys, it’s okay.”

Good thing Haruka hadn’t had time to take Kuro’s gift away from him to wrap like she had the other gifts. Lance withdrew the pink shopping bag, getting rid of the price tags with a little sleight of hand, and presented it to Kuro with a curtsy. He still didn’t really have the hang of bowing yet. There were different degrees according to the circumstances, and he was afraid he was gonna accidentally flip someone off, or challenge someone to a duel, or something.

Kuro perked up. “Omiyage?”

Lance nodded. He thought Haruka had used that word at least once in her mini-lecture on the gifting rules. She said normally it would be food, but since their terminal had rather limited shopping options for food that was suitable for gifting and they’d wound up short on time, _“make sure that you at least get a locally-known brand name, Lance!”_

Kuro accepted the pink boutique bag tentatively. “Is it really for me?”

Lance nodded again. “Sure is.”

Kuro rustled through the tissue excitedly, then pouted when he realized food was not forthcoming, then gasped when he felt what it was. “Soft!” He pulled it out and grinned ear to ear. “Black!”

Lance felt like he’d just won at life. “You can wear it zipped up over your t-shirt, it should contain most of the alpha smells until you have a chance to change clothes.” It still had the layer of heavy duty scent-blockers on it that all clothing retailers used to prevent having to wash a garment after every try-on.

Kuro bowed. “Sumimasen!”

Lance curtsied again.

“Dude, I’ve got to teach you how to bow,” Keith said. “You look like you’re about to do-si-do.”

“You can show me how to do it right when I give you your present.” Lance rummaged in his bag again.

“Me?” Keith sounded surprised.

“You are part of the Japanese diaspora, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but my family does souvenirs American style. We find some goofy-ass thing and say ‘this made me think of you’ when we hand it over.”

Lance found the item he’d packed and handed it over. “This made me think of you.”

Keith laughed when he took it out of Lance’s hands. “Mantyhose?”

“Keith you have to try them!” Lance was ready to sing the praises of mantyhose. “They make your legs look all shiny!”

Truthfully, he hadn’t known about omiyage when he’d picked up the mantyhose for Keith, he’d just spotted them one day and thought his friend could rock that look so he got them. They were black sheers with a gloss finish and a backseam leading up to a boyshort panty. Keith had shapely calves, backseams would look great on him. As it so happened, they were also potentially quite useful if Keith was still thinking of pulling a surprise striptease on Hunk.

Apparently he was, because he smiled a little devious smile and said, “Maybe I will give ‘em a whirl.”

“Now you have to show him ojigi.”

Two heads turned as one to take in the sight of Kuro wearing his new hoodie on top of the old hoodie, zipped all the way up with the hood raised. The embroidered crown was perfectly centered above his forehead.

“I didn’t know Goofy was a donkey,” Kuro went on happily. “I thought he was a dog.”

Lance wanted to wrap Kuro up and take him to Disneyland.

“Okay Lance, for this kind of situation you would bend at the waist to put your body at an angle like an open fan.” Keith demonstrated.

Lance watched Keith and followed the instructions. “Like this?”

“Don’t let your hands dangle, keep them tight to your body,” Keith said. When Lance adjusted his pose, he said, “That’s better.”

“How long should I stay like this?”

“You hold the pose a second or two unless it’s someone you really want to show all due respect, then you hold it longer, and it’s tacky to talk while you’re bowing dude.”

“Do you ever get caught in a loop of bowing when you don’t know if you can stop yet?”

“That can happen. It’s awkward. Also? It’s been more than two seconds and you’re still talking while bowing.” 

“Lance, you need to take a shower because you have dinner reservations soon and you smell like the interstate!” Haruka’s marchy footsteps approached from the anteroom, followed by a brisk knock on the closed bedroom door. “Lance!”

Keith jumped to the door and opened it. “Konnichiwa!”

“Keith!” Haruka took Keith’s offered hands in a brief clasp, and then spotted Kuro standing behind him. “Shirogane-san!” They bowed at each other. Lance watched the interplay with interest, taking mental notes.

“Lance!”

Lance jumped. “Me!”

“You must shower!” Haruka pointed at the bathroom. “You do not have much time to make yourself presentable.”

Lance looked down his front at his jeans and sweater ensemble that was now travel-rumpled and smelled like exhaust fumes. She was right. This time. “See you guys later?”

“Count on it,” Keith promised. 

They traded fist bumps, and then they taught Kuro how to fist bump too.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro squared away his luggage quickly. The penthouse’s spacious master bedroom felt too large without Lance in it; too much like that last night he’d spent in it without him. He was eager to leave the bedroom and remind himself that Lance was, in fact, still with him.

The tranquil scent of contented omega instantly relaxed him as he exited the room. It took him a moment to realize that the harmonious accord reaching his nose wasn’t just Lance’s scent, but an interwoven melding of notes from Lance, Keith Kogane, and another omega whose scent evoked a strange familiarity. Shiro entered the main parlor and there found Haruka presenting furoshiki-wrapped omiyage to Keith, whom he’d expected, and to the other omega, whom he hadn’t expected but really should have. Kuro was already wearing Lance’s gift, which was an oddly endearing sight.

Haruka had arranged the omiyage – all of it, save the one Lance had somehow slipped past her – on the glass-topped coffee table. Shiro recognized the furoshiki pattern she usually used for his gifts among the other patterns and rounded the back of the couch to sort his goodies out from the pile. Keith had just opened the souvenir Haruka and Kai had picked out for him, a custom stamp gift set from a stationery store near the brownstone. The Shinobus must have made time to shop for that at some point before the mad dash for the airport. Keith seemed to welcome the distraction of polite greetings with Shiro, as he was looking a bit misty-eyed, which Shiro recalled from his farewell with Lance was not a comfortable experience for him.

Shiro looked Kuro over as they traded greetings, trying to be unobtrusive about it. Kuro looked beyond healthy, flush with the freshness of the peak of life, yet the spark of boldness that should accompany this state was missing. He was almost stilted in his manners, calling Shiro by an honorific that was far too formal. Shiro had done most of his shopping in the M&M gift shop, which he was a little embarrassed about now because this young man before him was visibly too old for gifts that should appeal to children, and Shiro, whose mental image of him had not traversed the years of their separation, had bought him a tin of black Halloween M&Ms with a bat decorating the cover.

Much to his surprise, Kuro seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the gift, holding it to his chest after the obligatory ritual of ‘no I couldn’t’ and ‘yes I insist’ had been performed.

“He likes black,” Keith said with a little smile.

“I love black!” Kuro declared, the first sign of youthful spirit Shiro had observed from him since entering the room. He clutched the candy like he was expecting someone to take it away from him.

So, that was some kind of a thing. Shiro traded covert glances with Haruka. She didn’t know what to make of that reaction either, but she must be feeling relief that she’d gone with the cappuccino character mug full of M&Ms. Aside from the blue M&M character smirking on the front of it, the mug was black.

Shiro presented Keith with his souvenir: a red leather ‘K’ on a carabiner, for car keys or house keys or rappelling out of windows. M&Ms just hadn’t seemed an appropriate present for someone who had such a seasoned presence about himself. Keith accepted the gift with the same casual charm Shiro remembered from the last time they’d met, and then Haruka invited Keith to stay for dinner. She was planning on making omurice for herself, Kai and Izu Tasuku, and insisted it would be no trouble for her to set out another plate.

“We can discuss rehearsals for the dance routine!” Haruka said excitedly. “I watched the music video on the plane, the song you chose is so cute, your groom will be so surprised!”

So that was what prompted the squee from across the aisle after their flight attendant had cleared away all of the lunch dishes.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be surprised all right.” Keith sighed as if in rue, but he was smiling. “Guess I better call Hunk and tell him not to wait up for me tonight. I need to escort Kuro back to his suite first, though.”

“I can do that,” Shiro said, turning to Kuro, who sat between him and Keith on the couch. “It’s been a while since we’ve spent time in one another’s company, we could catch up a little before dinner.”

Talk about embroidering an excuse out of whole cloth. Shiro didn’t think he’d ever had an interaction with Kuro that wasn’t socially scripted from beginning to end. Looking back on it now, he wondered if those times Kuro had tried to get a rise out of him were not true antipathy but simply attempts to break the script.

Kuro looked back at him skeptically but agreed to the change of escort. They made it out the door just in time to meet Izu Tasuku in the hall. Explanations were traded and Izu was sent on into the penthouse to begin his evening socializing with the Shinobus with Shiro’s blessings.

Alone in the hall, Kuro seemed even younger somehow. He was taller than Lance, but still shorter than Shiro. He offered his arm, his usual habit when squiring an omega through a public space, and Kuro gaped up at him with such startled wide eyes that Shiro didn’t know what to think.

“Kuro-chan, I am your brother.” It was a bit familiar of him, but he didn’t like seeing that look on the face of someone under his protection. “It’s perfectly alright to accept my arm. There is no indiscretion in doing so.”

Tentatively, Kuro curled a hand around the offered arm. Shiro let him maintain his bubble of personal space as they continued at a sedate pace over floral carpet. Just what in the hell had Tatsuo been telling him about how to behave around alphas? Surely he knew that close relatives were meant to be a safe zone, right?

Luck (or more likely Shinji’s scheming) saw to it that Shiro’s extended family had a suite on the same exclusive floor of the Beverly Wing as the penthouse, so they had a leisurely walk through a long, bending hall ahead of them to get Kuro back to the security of his rooms. Plenty of time to chat.

“How is your schooling going, Kuro-chan?”

That seemed a safe topic to open with. The last time he’d seen the boy for long enough to have a conversation, he’d recently completed junior high school and had been studying for the exam to determine which senior high school he could attend. Shiro had missed out on that particular anxiety-inducing experience for the entirely different anxiety-inducing experience of being disenrolled from his junior high school and packed off to a tony prep school in upstate New York.

Kuro stared at the bend in the hall before them as if the decorative wainscoting held the secrets to the universe within its bevels. ”I regret that I am having difficulty mastering the Way of Tea, Onii-sama.”

Tea? “Is this a module in your Home Economics class?”

Now Kuro looked up at him as if questioning how he got so big and tall when he was obviously too dumb to eat. “Haha teaches me.” The ‘duh’ was not uttered, but implied.

Shiro felt surprise like an ice cube down the back of the shirt, and chided himself for it. Omegas being educated in the home after compulsory schooling ended was extremely commonplace around the world. Even in countries where omegas were permitted to keep academic pace with their beta and alpha peers, their families did not always choose to take advantage of the opportunity for a longer school career. It was just that as far as he knew, Kuro had been educated in the expectation that he would eventually take part in their father’s business ventures, so for him to be abruptly removed from that career path and placed on – what was Tatsuo training him to become, anyway?

“What course of study has Mamahaha placed you on?”

Kuro became more animated as he described his studies. There was seasonal table setting, flower arranging and the tea ceremonies, none of which the boy seemed all that enthused about. Then there was calligraphy, singing and proficiency in several musical instruments, which he obviously liked much better. But what he loved best of all was dancing.

“I think I know everything Haha knows about it, though,” he said, frustration evident in his tone, “because whenever I ask Haha to teach me a new dance, he tells me I must master the ones I’ve already learned first, but I’m just as good as he is now, I know I am.”

Here finally was the confident teen Shiro remembered, buried under several layers of punctilious manners. Not a moment too soon either, as Shiro could see the door leading into the Governor Suite up ahead.

“Would you be interested in an opportunity to learn new dances even if it meant learning from someone different?” Shiro asked.

Kuro stopped them in the hallway with a tightening of his hand on Shiro’s elbow. “But, how?”

“Leave that to me,” Shiro said. “I’m your big brother. It’s kind of my job.”

Kuro nodded and bowed, hope lighting his face in an expression at once alien and familiar. Shiro may have once spotted a similar expression in an unwashed window when Lance said yes. He had zero plans on how to actually accomplish this thing for Kuro, but damn it, he made his little brother a promise so he was going to find a way.


	8. Let's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance meets the in-laws at a dinner that leads to an unexpected declaration. Keith tests out his stripping prowess on Hunk. Colleen prepares a surprise of her own, Curtis and Adam have a conversation, and Katie Holt makes her entrance into the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, and shout outs to SinisterChaos, Inoshi, Drowning_Slowly, luminiferousaether and PyroInfinite. I'm afraid Kuro's mother is not quite done with the crazy yet, and this time it has some interesting consequences. But I am giving you more Heith!

  
Lance turned in front of the full-length mirror installed right next to his bed’s giant embroidered headboard. Presumably it was there to make the room look larger, but it was also more convenient for getting the full picture of an outfit than the mirrors in the bathroom, which were still steamed up from his shower. This room was definitely set up for unattached omegas to dilly-dally over getting ready in seclusion.

Shiro had given him some pertinent data about the restaurant they were going to, like that the dress code was business casual. The servers would be in kimono, but OSHA said they had to wear shoes, so they would not insist on the guests removing their shoes on entry. The private dining room had Western style table and chairs, but if they used the tea room afterward then Lance might be expected to sit on a floor cushion.

With all of this information in mind, Lance had chosen one of the shirtwaist jumpsuits, a long-sleeved silk jersey one in a rich hue of blue. The palazzo cut on the bottom ensured comfort no matter how he was sitting and the long sash around the waist gave it the dash of pizzazz he liked. Best of all, the knit fabric embraced the lines of his body even along the looser cut areas. Lance twirled, and smiled as he noted how the fabric swung close to his legs, outlining their shape.

If he might be sitting on a cushion before the night was through then the block heels he favored for evening wear were probably not ideal. Even if the heels didn’t snag on his hems, they’d poke him in the thigh or butt when he sat down. Lance decided to go with the blue velvet slippers. He took fashion tape out of his travel kit to raise the hems on the jumpsuit accordingly.

Dressed again, Lance rubbed a little molding cream through his hair, sweeping it away from his face but leaving a fashionable tousle since the dress code allowed for it. He applied neutral makeup with a light hand, and considered dabbing on fragrance then decided against it remembering what Haruka had said about it. He went to the closet where the jewelry he’d packed was stowed in the built-in safe, opening the lockbox and looking inside it thoughtfully. Yes, this was an appropriate occasion for it, in spite of the dress code not being fully formal.

Lance secured the courting necklace around his neck. The sapphire dropped right into the V created by the open neck of the shirtwaist. Any additional jewelry with this outfit would be excessive. He aimed finger guns at his reflection. “Razzle dazzle time.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Dancing?” Shinji sounded nonplused. “He may have to move to Tokyo if he wants to major in dance at a university.”

Shiro supposed his cousin knew what he was talking about, since he made his living adjacent to the performing arts himself. Shinji was already dressed for dinner in glen plaid trousers and a grey knit sweater over shirt and tie. They’d repaired to the privacy of Shinji’s sitting room after Tatsuo called out from the depths of the suite and Kuro ran with an excuse that he needed to shower.

“What would he need in order to get into university?” Shiro asked. 

His own shower awaited and time was of the essence if he wanted to keep his reservation, but he couldn’t waste the opportunity to speak with Shinji knowing that Tatsuo was too busy right then to try to eavesdrop.

“He would need to finish senior high school and then pass the examinations,” Shinji said, and he should know about that too, since he’d done exactly that himself before embarking on the fateful exchange program that Shiro could thank for his very own existence. “It would take him three years, maybe four. Or he could take the exam for a secondary school equivalency certificate, although I hesitate to speculate how well he’d do on it.”

“I thought he did well on his five subject exam?”

“He did, but that was two years ago.” Shinji rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, regarding Shiro with a considering expression. “Perhaps there is an alternate schooling option.”

“What’s that?” Shiro asked absentmindedly. He was still mentally going over the potential timeline to get his little brother’s credentials in order.

“Who else do we know who left school at the junior high school level?”

“Who do we– ” Shiro abruptly realized who Shinji must be talking about. “Technically I didn’t leave school, Shinji.”

“You entered a foreign school system without a junior high school degree or entrance exams.”

Shiro frowned. “Actually, I did take an exam.” 

He’d taken the TOEFL and answered a bunch of essay questions for the SAO, without being told what any of it was for. He’d thought he was simply being tested to determine how far behind his peers he had fallen during his long recuperation. He’d expected to have to start the eighth grade over from the beginning, and he had – in a whole different country. Strictly speaking he hadn’t really entered a foreign school system, although Shiro’s maternal grandmother had died before he was born, and as far as he knew he had no living family remaining in either the U.S. or the U.K. on his mother’s side. 

He’d felt for Lance acutely when he’d told the story of trying to track down his father’s family only to find his father’s death record (and one hostile relation by marriage). Shiro had never even considered looking for distant relatives, much less with the sheer tenacity that Lance had displayed. His mother had been the world to him, and without her in it, that world had seemed empty for quite some time. By the time he’d recovered his spirit to go on, he’d become convinced that no extended relation could ever hope to live up to her memory and never made an effort to test that theory.

“What of your betrothed?” Shinji asked. “You mentioned that he is about to enter a vocational college for the beauty industry, yet he also began his school career abroad.”

“Lance came here with a secondary school degree already accomplished and then tested for local equivalency.” That actually gave Shiro an idea. “We need to find out what Kuro’s academic baseline is.”

“But how will we test him for this without subjecting him to an exam with little preparation and which he cannot retake for a whole year?”

Shiro did not have a single solitary clue. He scratched his head. “You know what, I think I’m going to have to ask Lance more about how he did it.” He’d given Lance permission to use his office and then just left him to it, completely confident in his ability to do whatever he had to do to get what he wanted. In hindsight, he was a little amazed at himself for taking his omega’s resourcefulness so much for granted.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Adam heard the bell attached to the shop’s door jingle but didn’t look up from his copy of the New York Times. The evening rush was long over, they were closing soon, and he almost had the crossword puzzle finished. He felt secure in the certainty that if a hooligan had just walked in, then his older brother Haran would break the sound barrier running over to help him. The customer was probably going over to see Haran anyway. His custom tisane blends were the top seller at this hour of the night.

What was a six letter word for the collective members of a household? He already had m****e.

“It’s ménage.” 

Adam looked up into the distracted and rather attractive face of his one-time would-be rival. “Thanks.” For ruining the damned crossword puzzle. “How would I have ever solved it without you.” 

“No problem.” Curtis plopped his toned posterior on a stool (this guy took the local prerogative to walk everywhere to an extreme) then whipped out his cell phone and started tapping the screen. “Can I get an açaí phosphate soda, please?” 

Adam rolled his eyes and set about jerking the guy’s soda. It was impossible to stay mad at Curtis for very long knowing that he was preoccupied with a man who was so profoundly oblivious to his ardor that he’d once set him up on a double date with that insufferable school friend of his during what was supposedly a trial separation from his wife. Adam had his doubts about whether the wife knew they were separated. How the hell Curtis had survived a date with Lotor Manigford with his affection for Shiro fully intact was a real stumper, never minding the fact that, to add insult to injury, Adam had been there canoodling with Shiro throughout the entire farce.

When Adam returned to the bar with the fountain drink, Curtis sat motionless on his stool, sleepy blue eyes fixed on his cell phone screen.

“That’ll be $3.27.”

Curtis handed over a fiver. “Keep the change.”

There was another reason he could never maintain a full steam of ire at Curtis: in all the times that Stalker Magoo had come in here to size up the competition, the beta had never once been a stingy tipper. Not that Adam really needed the tips, mind. It was his family’s last name on the apothecary door, and on several more around town, as well as on the branded packaging of the products they sold nationwide. Adam didn’t work at this location – the oldest Witkin’s Apothecary in continuous operation – because he needed the salary. He did it because family was important and so was getting out of the house on a regular basis, the salary was just a bonus.

Adam’s grandmother used to tell him to pay attention when a man was generous with gratuities because that meant he would be generous in other aspects of life. Adam hadn’t originally put much store by it. Shiro had been a guidelines tipper, able to correctly gauge 18 percent of a pretax bill at a Michelin starred restaurant in a single glance, but oh honey mama the service he could render whenever they managed to get some privacy. It took Adam a while to realize that his grandmother hadn’t been talking about generosity in the bedroom but rather with time spent outside of it, and once he figured that out he resolved never to overlook Bubbe’s advice again. He rang out Curtis’s order and pocketed his 52 percent tip.

Across the bar, Curtis gasped, phone clattering to the laminate counter top. “I don’t believe it.”

Adam pushed the phosphate soda closer to Curtis’s elbow. “Why the long face?” He didn’t interrupt his crossword puzzle to make that drink just to watch it get ruined by melted ice and melodramatics.

“He’s getting married!” Curtis scooped up the cell phone and shoved it in Adam’s face. There, on the blog of a local gossip monger, was a full shot picture of Shiro kissing some sweet young thing at the airport. The blogger’s caption read: _Bachelor no more! A mysterious mail order bride arrives special delivery to take one of the city’s most eligible off the marriage market ♡ remember you saw it here first sweeties ♡  
_

Adam cackled so loud that his brother peeked around the aisle from where he had his station set up to see what was going on.

Poor Curtis was all verklempt. “How can you laugh about this?”

“Well for one thing,” Adam leaned on the bar counter to catch his breath and wipe away a tear, “they’re standing in departures, not arrivals.” He snickered. “And for another, it’s just too ridiculous.” 

For Shiro to have slept his way through the crème de la crème of high society only to pluck his bride from the depths of obscurity must have socialites cursing his name from Atlanta to Newport. Adam dissolved in fresh laughter at the mere thought of it. Somebody out there was probably burning his gifts in effigy right that very minute.

“You know, I’ve actually met this guy who has his face all over Shiro,” Curtis fumed. “What does he have that I don’t?”

_Seductive wiles_ , was right on the tip of Adam’s tongue, but he gallantly refrained. Shiro had a fine appreciation for the art of the lure, but wouldn’t notice a heart worn on the sleeve even if it was draped around his neck. Anyway, Curtis didn’t realize it yet but he had avoided a major calamity. The sort of calamity who called at 4 a.m. to inquire about plans to move to another country to keep house for some people he’d never met and to ask how much of his own family’s business the Shirogane family could expect to absorb in a presumptive merger.

“I’ll tell you what he’s about to have that nobody wants,” Adam said as he began scrubbing down the bar in preparation for closing time.

Curtis raised an eyebrow in skeptical disbelief. “What’s that?”

“The mother-in-law from hell.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro took the long way, going northwest on Rodeo Drive with the top up. Windswept was a look he liked on Lance, but walking into a nice restaurant smelling like fumes wouldn’t be very considerate to the other diners. Lance had wondered why they didn’t just ride with Shiro’s family, who had taken the faster route down Wilshire Boulevard in an SUV that could have easily carried all five of them comfortably. The reason for that was that both Shiro and Tatsuo reserved the right to storm out of the restaurant if this parley went south. That would be awkward if one of them had to wait outside for the others to finish eating and then ride back to the hotel together in the same vehicle.

On the other hand, maybe they should have shared a vehicle. It would act as more of a curb on Tatsuo’s mouth than Shiro’s, since neither Shiro or Lance would find a fifteen minute stroll back through an upscale shopping district to be all that much of an inconvenience. But no, this was better. This way Shiro had Lance all to himself for a few more minutes. Long enough to bask in his scent, enjoy his chatter, and receive his counsel on the matter of his little brother’s education.

“The TASC has a free online practice test,” Lance said. “I don’t know how helpful it would be in predicting how he’d do on the exam your cousin was talking about, but it’s something.”

“I just wish there was some way to get him an interview here with someone familiar with proctoring gokyōka or daiken.” Shiro turned left onto Historic Route 66. “His spoken English is near flawless, but I don’t have any idea how well he can read it.”

“You know... ” Lance folded one arm across his chest and propped the opposite elbow on it so he could lean his chin on his hand, a pose he often adopted when in deep thought which Shiro found utterly charming. “Maybe you can? Keith used to go to Saturday school, he probably knows someone who could help.”

“Saturday school?” Shiro carefully navigated an intersection clogged by a line of cars waiting to turn left. “Is that like a cram school?”

Lance grinned. “Didn’t you ever wonder why his Japanese is so good when he doesn’t really need it on a day to day basis? His dad and his cousin made him go to Saturday schools. He said they taught a lot of the same subjects he was studying in public school, except the Saturday schools were all taught in Japanese, like getting tutoring and language immersion all in one.”

Shiro breathed out in relief. “That sounds like exactly what I need. Thank you honey.”

Lance smiled. “You know I got your back whenever, querido.”

The restaurant was located in an adobe brick building housing several other businesses, with the sort of ample parking that was fairly common in California but which always struck Shiro’s New York state of mind as being rather extravagant. It would be very easy to miss the presence of a kaiseki dining establishment tucked in between another fancy restaurant and a store selling premium kitchenware, until a closer approach brought into focus the noren curtain hanging over the entrance and the floor lanterns guiding the way inside. Flute and shamisen music, piped in at a tasteful decibel, accompanied the couple into a wood-paneled space with the fresh smell of cedar. A hostess in kimono and slip-resistant clogs met them with bows and smiles to lead them down a floor-lit hallway past doors with kichō partitions, until they came to the one for their private dining room.

Cove lighting gently illuminated a room with uchiwa fans decorating celadon green walls. Yellow dahlias painted on the fans were echoed in real ones in a vase on the long table, offering no competition against the scents of mixed emotions wafting off the seated company waiting for their hosts to arrive. Tatsuo had claimed the top ranked seat on the guest side of the table for himself, with Shinji on his right and Kuro placed on the end. Age had merely softened the edges of the fox-faced beauty which had surely drawn in Shiro’s father.

Both Tatsuo and Kuro were wearing kimono. Tatsuo wore a visiting kimono in the color of aster blooms with a pattern of maple leaves flowing over his shoulder and down his left sleeve. Shiro could see even from here that his sleeves sported the Shirogane family crest: two falcons on the wing silhouetted against an open tessen fan. By contrast, Kuro had been dressed in a single color kimono of thrice-dyed crimson, the only discernible patterns being the crests on his sleeves and his brocaded obi. His hair had been coiled into a chignon and secured with tama kanzashi.

Shouldn’t Kuro be wearing the more embellished kimono as an omega of marriageable age? Before Shiro could travel down that mental path any further, Lance surprised him by bowing; a little hesitant in timing but otherwise nice form. Visibly delighted by the gesture, Kuro stood and bowed back, Shinji a millisecond behind him. Tatsuo remained in his seat with pursed lips until Shiro bowed, when he finally deigned to offer a seated bow, which would have been fine if he’d been sitting in seiza but was borderline inappropriate to do in a chair. They were here to celebrate Shiro’s decision to marry, not share beer nuts and shoot the breeze, but in the interests of keeping the peace a little longer he decided to let it go.

Shiro took the seat of rank on the host’s side of the table, putting him directly across from Tatsuo, and Lance across from Shinji and Kuro. Their waitress returned with a tray of hot damp hand towels and to take their beverage order. Aside from the optional tea ceremony this was the only part of the meal they would be putting in an order for, as the rest was chef’s choice. After a quick consultation with Shinji, they decided on a bottle of daiginjo sake and a pot of oolong tea. Neither Lance nor Kuro were technically old enough to order alcoholic beverages, but being omega meant drinking them in the presence of chaperones would be tolerated so long as they did not get drunk on the premises.

As they waited for the drinks to arrive, Shiro introduced Lance to the other members of the dinner party. It seemed he had already met Kuro and made his usual winsome impression. The introduction to Shinji went very well, Shiro could sense his approval in the balsam outpouring of his scent. The introduction to Tatsuo went about as well as Shiro had expected it to go. At least it didn’t go worse.

“Tell me Yari-kun, have you ever cleaned tatami mats before?”

“No, serah.” Lance, bless his sweet heart, did not know to take umbrage at the familiarity Tatsuo had just displayed with him. “But I could learn.”

“You would certainly have to learn if you intend to keep house for me,” Tatsuo went on, heedless of the ‘oh shit’ expressions dawning around the table. “They require special care or else they become a home for mites.”

“Lance will be keeping house with me,” Shiro broke in firmly, “and I live in New York.”

When he’d reached the age of majority Shiro’s ephemeral citizenship status could no longer legally be recognized in Japan unless he married a full citizen. Since he had no marriage prospects at the time, and he’d already been accepted into the freshman class of his dream school in New York City, relinquishing his Japanese citizenship had seemed the most expedient of his available options. As this ensured he wouldn’t be home frequently to remind his father of his shortcomings and threaten Tatsuo’s primacy, this choice had been readily approved by both of them. The long and short of it was, there would be no traditional moving in with the groom’s parents happening with Shiro. Even if he didn’t enjoy living in his adopted city (and he very much did) there was just no way in hell he wanted to live cheek by jowl with his stepmother.

“Well.” Tatsuo carefully refolded his oshibori towel. “I suppose you come from a culture where everyone must strike out alone so that they may have their own space, Yari-kun?”

“Oh, no serah.” Lance continued to be earnest in his demeanor even as the rest of the table quietly winced at Tatsuo’s continued encroachment on the boundary of acceptable manners. “I’m from Cuba, extended families living together is perfectly fine. We’re supposed to take care of each other.”

That explained a lot about Lance’s high tolerance for Haruka’s fussiness, actually.

“Really?” Tatsuo sat up straighter. “And how are the household duties divided in your culture?”

“Everybody pitches in wherever they’re able,” Lance said with innocent frankness.

Into the momentary silence left in the wake of that statement arrived the waitress with their drink order. She showed them the sake bottle before pouring its contents into a glass carafe that had an ice chamber blown into its side so as to keep the sake cool without diluting it. The waitress set out glass guinomi cups and then once again took her leave. Shiro leaned close enough to Lance to be rewarded with a draft of his natural ginger lily scent.

“You will need to lift the cup with both hands,” he murmured, glancing to the glass cup and then up to Lance.

Across from him, Kuro had already wrapped the sake decanter in the provided napkin and taken it up in both hands. He smiled encouragingly at Lance, who lifted his cup as instructed and received a generous pour. Kuro nodded and then held the decanter across the table toward Lance, glancing meaningfully at Shiro and then back at him. Lance, always fast on his feet, got the idea and gently lowered his full cup to the table before accepting the decanter in both hands, as he had just observed Kuro do. Shiro obligingly held up his cup to be filled, and they continued around the table, younger to elder until it was Shinji’s turn to complete the circle by serving Kuro.

“He is too young,” Tatsuo spoke up grouchily on Shinji’s other side.

Kuro’s face fell.

“It would be inhospitable to leave anyone’s cup empty during the first toast,” was Shinji’s reply, before he went ahead and poured for Kuro, who watched him with wide eyes but lifted his cup obligingly.

They were treading a fine line here. Local law would favor Tatsuo if he were to press his case, but Shiro was positive that Tatsuo’s reasons for trying to exclude Kuro from this social ritual had nothing to do with protecting his health or his moral rectitude. Shiro and Shinji both breathed a sigh of relief when Tatsuo acquiesced with a noise of discontent. Hopefully Kuro was aware of the unspoken expectation to sip slowly so as to delay draining the cup, otherwise they’d be playing this game again well before the evening was through.

Shiro raised his glass in both hands. “Thank you all for joining us here tonight and sharing your company as we share a meal. Kampai!”

“Kampai!” went up around the table, Lance’s slightly late but game, as five glasses were raised and gently touched together before returning to their holders for first sips.

Shiro took a moment to appreciate the cool glass against his lip and the sweet strawberry aroma rising from the sake. Juicy and bright like a dry white wine, but also soft and round like a medium-bodied red, it was a pleasure to imbibe. Shinji had splendid taste. With any luck the alcohol would take the edge off Tatsuo’s disposition instead of sharpening it.

Tea was served next, poured from a clay pot into small ceramic cups which warmed the hands when lifted to sip. Shiro closed his eyes to inhale the heady floral notes in the steam and savor the long finish. Beside him, he could feel the mellow thrum of Lance’s pleasure as he too enjoyed the tea.

The waitress returned with their appetizer course. Small mamezara plates were set before them, each containing a single golden cube of fried silken tofu settled in a shallow bath of tsuyu sauce and sprinkled with green onion. Once everyone had received a plate and given their thanks for the meal, Shiro raised his own plate closer to his face. He used the chopsticks from his place setting to lift the tofu from the sauce and take a bite, aware that Lance was watching him for pointers on how to conduct himself all the while. Crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside with the sweet and savory sauce warm on his tongue, Shiro wanted to moan but it definitely wouldn’t have been polite.

Right next to him, Lance suddenly released an exuberant puff of spicy floral scent. Shiro glanced over at him, the other half of his appetizer still hovering before him secure in a chopstick grip. Lance was looking back at him with heat in his eyes and cheeks. Shiro glanced around the table quickly to find Kuro blushing furiously, Shinji fighting a smile and Tatsuo with an expressionless face that told him everything he needed to know about the opinion from that corner.

Ah well, it couldn’t be helped. Besides, Tatsuo had no room to be precious. He had once tried to steal Shiro’s baby batter. Tatsuo better not think Shiro was forgetting that stunt any time soon.

The waitress returned to serve crunchy daikon salad with tart and salty umeboshi dressing, followed up by a corn and shrimp kakiage with more tsuyu sauce. Then they were all provided dipping bowls with briny soy sauce, irizake sauce and fresh wasabi before the sashimi course was served. Lucky red seabream, yellowtail and fatty tuna sat two apiece on each chuzara plate.

“Yari-kun, have you ever eaten raw fish before?”

Shiro’s insides froze at the sudden realization that something could conceivably arrive during this meal which Lance would no doubt try to choke down regardless of how he might personally feel about it. When he looked to his left Lance was smiling happily down at the dish before him.

“Oh yes, I love ceviche,” he said, before turning those wide blue eyes on Shiro. “Is it okay to dip it in the sauce, or should I try to put the sauce in the dish with the tuna?”

“You dip it in the sauce, and you should start with the madai,” Kuro spoke up helpfully from across the table, “but if you want wasabi, you need to put that on the sashimi before you dip it.” Then he demonstrated, using his chopsticks to put a dot of wasabi on a cut of red seabream, folding the fish like a wrapper around the wasabi and then dipping it into the irizake sauce before popping the whole parcel in his mouth.

Shiro let go of his tension and just enjoyed watching Lance try to imitate Kuro’s dexterity with the chopsticks. His expressive face coming alive to the flavors was a transfixing sight. Lance made a yummy noise high in his throat; Shiro looked around the table but the only one showing any signs of offense to that was of course Tatsuo. The others looked on indulgently. Shiro was reasonably certain that Lance could have acquitted himself like an aristocrat undergoing an ordination ceremony at court and Tatsuo still would have found a pretext for grievance. 

Once the sashimi had been eaten, the tempura began to arrive swiftly so as not to waste a second of the delicate breading’s peak tastiness. There was mild-flavored smelt prepared with the head on, which Shiro was relieved to see did not put Lance off in the slightest. Also abalone, sea urchin, scallop, salt water eel, and an oyster presented in its cleaned shell. This was followed up by several different aromatic mushrooms, their earthy aromas wafting out as the crisp breading was bitten through. Shiro and Kuro took turns teaching Lance how to lightly season the tempura with the different flavored dipping salts which had been provided.

Shinji at some point had taken it upon himself to keep Tatsuo distracted by being conspicuously attentive to him. Shiro was grateful for his intervention, especially when the next course arrived and it was wagyu tataki, thin pink slices nestled in ponzu sauce. Lance gazed up at Shiro dreamily, and he knew they were both thinking of the night they’d flown to San Francisco to watch the ballet.

“Is it truly romantic to court?”

Shiro and Lance blinked apart at the curious inquiry. Across the table, Kuro flushed at the sudden intensity of attention on him and Shiro recalled what Shinji had told him about his little brother not being the specific kind of brat that he remembered. However, his fleeting aggravation at having his moment with Lance interrupted could not flare to full pique because Lance didn’t seem bothered by it at all, his scent fluttering out in a current meant to soothe.

“It’s romantic when you’re being courted by someone you love,” Lance said, and all remaining irritation rushed out of Shiro in a wave of affection for the omega by his side.

“Romance. Love? Feh.” It would appear Tatsuo was not as distracted as Shiro had hoped. “If you want romance go to the theater. The goal of courtship is to secure your legacy into the next generation.”

“It is possible to perpetuate your line with someone you love,” Shiro said with more of a reprimanding tone that he’d consciously intended. “In fact, I would think it would be preferable.”

“To rely on love is nonsense,” Tatsuo scoffed. “How will it comfort you when it has evaporated into thin air and you are left alone?”

“You must put work into love if you want to sustain it and for it to sustain you in turn,” Shinji entered the conversation with some unutterable tension underlying his words. “It is not like a noble metal which can go on in spite of what goes on around it. It is like a garden which must be tended in order to thrive.”

Tatsuo and Shinji stared at each other, the friction between them filling the air with a smell like barbecued peaches.

Tatsuo broke eye contact first. “Gold can’t die from neglect.”

“Gold was never alive to begin with,” Shinji muttered, turning his attention from Tatsuo to his plate.

By the time the waitress returned to serve the rice course Shiro was beginning to regret having sprung for the most expansive omakase the restaurant offered. If he’d gone with one of the more limited menu options he could have been back in the car with Lance by now, looking forward to parking and making out like a teenager. Instead, he was looking at dessert and possibly a tea ceremony before he could be released from the secondhand agitation rising off of Shinji and Tatsuo like smoke from a bonfire, which even Lance’s successive ripples of scent couldn’t quite manage to tone down.

A plate of pickled vegetables was placed in the center of the table, and then lidded meshiwan bowls were set before each of them. This time the waitress had a helper, and as she lifted each porcelain lid to reveal steaming hot rice topped by lotus root tempura, her assistant poured rich dashi broth into the bowl to make it an ochazuke. The comfort food began to do its job, smoothing the ruffled feathers among the group.

The mood stabilized enough that when yuzu sorbet was brought out served in the fruit’s hollowed-out peels, Shiro was beginning to think that it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to go ahead and accept the tea ceremony when their server inevitably asked about it. Appreciative murmurs of “gochisosama” traveled the perimeter of the table as the diners thanked the wait staff and proceeded to relish the highly aromatic frozen treats that they had been given.

As the last enamel spoon was laid across its tray, Shinji began topping off everyone else’s sake. Having an idea of what he was up to, Shiro returned the favor for him as soon as he was done. Sure enough, Shinji lifted his refilled cup in both hands.

“I would like to congratulate Shiro-san on his most auspicious betrothal to Lansu-san.” He graciously waited until the others had full cups lifted in both hands. Tatsuo lifted his cup in one hand, which nobody commented on. “Kampai!”

“Kampai!” Four cups touched in the center of the table and one cup was tossed back like an oyster shooter. “Tatsuo-san!”

“You cannot expect me to give my blessings to a marriage that will never take place.” Tatsuo broke protocol and poured himself the last drops from the sake carafe. “Takashi-kun is waving this gaijin in front of me like a battle banner, threatening to marry him as revenge for marrying his father so suddenly and then refusing to sway Ryu from keeping him in that secondary school overseas.”

Shiro’s heart clenched as the acrid scent of burning flowers filled the air. _Distressed omega_. It was coming from both of the younger ones. Lance knew of Shiro’s embittered history with Tatsuo, while Kuro probably hadn’t an inkling of the more ignoble details before right that very moment. Lance’s anxiety beat against his fledgling bond-sense like the wings of a trapped butterfly, fed by the obvious upset of Kuro, whose eyes looked too shiny. Shiro would not permit this to escalate.

“You have mistaken my intentions, oba-san.” That was as close to a family form of address as Shiro was willing to offer directly to Tatsuo. “Let the past flow away so that the future may flow in. I do love Lance, and I am marrying him.”

“You say this over and over to me, but your words are just pretty sounds until I see the proof before my own eyes.”

Shiro was fully prepared to call that bluff. “You wish to bear witness to our wedding?” 

Tatsuo’s brow was beaded but his chin was high. “I will never believe that you would bestow your family name upon one whose family is not even here to meet us until I have seen it for myself.”

“So be it.” Shiro found Lance’s hand under the table and held it up between both of his. “We will be married upon the next Taian day.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The house was dark and quiet when Hunk took off his shoes and let himself in through the back door. Keith must still be with the Shinobus. When he’d told Hunk he was accepting their dinner invitation, Hunk had decided to take advantage of the unexpected free time to put in some extra hours because he fully expected to become distracted the closer they got to the wedding. Saturdays were always busy, so there was no shortage of fires to put out, but now he was tired to the bone. Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, he slumped through the kitchen into the living room, bypassing the cuddle couch to fall back into the comfy transitional chair, kicking his feet up on the ottoman.

Maybe he’d work on polishing up his vows while enjoying this beer. On second thought, maybe his brain would work better after a quick nap. He was just on the verge of nodding off when he heard it. Syncopated bass layered over a kick and snare groove, joined by chimes.

_♬ Oo-ooh, baby... ♬_

Okay, so Keith had beat him home after all. If Hunk had been a little more awake he might have anticipated what happened next, but he was still half-asleep and the low mid-tempo rhythm lulled him into relaxing even further, so as it was he was caught completely off guard.

_♬ You know you ought to slow down, you’ve been working too hard and that’s a fact. ♬_

Fingertips ghosted across Hunk’s shoulders as Keith’s scent floated up behind him. Hunk’s eyelids drifted open to find Keith circling around to the front of the chair, in his uniform? Hunk sat up, his feet falling off the ottoman to thunk on the hardwood.

_♬ Take some time to laugh and smile. ♬_

Keith’s lips curved up as he started popping the buttons on his jacket, which was summarily dispatched to the floor.

_♬ It seems we never take the time to do all the things we want to, yeah. ♬_

Keith’s nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open as he squatted on his heels as easily as Hunk got out of bed in the morning. When the shirt fell open he shoved the ottoman out of his way to place his hands on Hunk’s knees and propel himself up into a body roll, abs rippling magnificently as his scent glands pumped out a sweet perfume. Hunk tried to speak but as he drew breath and got the full force of Keith’s pheromones all that his vocal chords managed to produce was a wheezy noise.

_♬ The love I feel for you, you feel for me. ♬_

Keith could barely contain his grin, how long had he been planning this? He turned around and knelt again, shucking his slacks as he went. He straightened his lower half with a ridiculously graceful arch, revealing black stockings with a seam running right up the back of each beautifully proportioned leg. Hunk considered himself fortunate to possess excellent control of his alpha instincts, but this was the most severe test that he’d ever encountered. As Keith cat-stretched his upper body back up to a standing position, he ran his hands up those gorgeous gams and Hunk could not look away.

_♬ Let’s take some time to be alone. ♬_

When Keith turned and stepped out of the slacks, kicking them aside with one well-turned ankle, Hunk got a look at what he’d been too distracted by burlesque to notice before: boudoir slippers. Black satin. Hunk recognized them, he’d helped unpack them. Somehow it had not occurred to him that he’d be seeing them again in quite this context. Then he was seeing them up closer as Keith did a forward walkover right into his lap, and miraculously the shoes did not fly off his feet when he did so.

_♬ Baby we can do it, take the time, do it right, we can do it baby, do it tonight. ♬_

The heat of Keith’s body penned him in as he rolled his hips, his quads holding him aloft over Hunk’s thighs, brushing but never fully connecting with his crotch. He started pulling the shirt partway off, first one marble-pale shoulder then the other, each pass waving a fragrant blast until Hunk was almost dizzy with it, and then without warning the fabric was around his head. Keith leaned in close with the sweet relief of a kiss and then he leaned back out again and Hunk found himself wearing Keith’s shirt around his neck like an aphrodisiacal ascot.

_♬ Take the time... ♬_

Keith sat back on his haunches with a big grin on his face and now that the shirt had traded torsos, Hunk could see clearly that the hose Keith had on ended in attached briefs. The rhythm guitar kicked in on the track and Keith started popping his hips, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his hose and playing peekaboo with every pop. First one porcelain hip was exposed, then the other, stretchy fabric dipping low over each flexing iliacus muscle. Hunk watched with the fascination of a cat chasing a laser pointer until finally he lost the battle with impulse control and smooshed Keith’s warm body against him for a proper kiss hello.

_♬ Take your time.... ♬_

Hank laid his hands on Keith’s back and glided them down the curve of his spine, feeling the tremble in his muscles as his palms skimmed over them. All along his chest was radiant heat, and then his hands swept lower and Keith made a needy sound in his mouth and ground down, hard, and now there was no denying that they both were. 

Keith bit him on the lower lip, hard enough to sting. “Please,” he said in such a tone that Hunk squeezed him tight again.

“I’m sorry for making you wait baby.” Hunk felt remorse down to the very bottom of his soul. “I didn’t know it was causing you distress.” If he had, he would have never suggested waiting for their wedding night.

Keith’s arms wound around Hunk’s neck, his eyes huge as the night sky this close. “Why did you want to wait? Don’t tell me it’s the rules, because I know you don’t really care about those.”

It would be more accurate to say that Hunk cared about the spirit of the rules over the letter of the rules, but that was not germane at the moment and it certainly wasn’t as important as the young man in his arms. “I just wanted you to know that you’re worth waiting for.”

Keith blew out a soft laugh as he leaned his forehead against Hunk’s. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Hunk chuckled and kissed him again. In all his fervor to prove his love through actions, he’d forgotten to just use his words. 

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
After the grand gesture to end all grand gestures (and Shiro was like, the king of those, but this was taking it to the max) they’d decided to call it a night. Even though he was curious about the tea ceremony Lance was glad he didn’t have to pile into a smaller room with Shiro’s stepmother, but he was also worried about Kuro. He’d looked really unhappy.

“You should call him,” he’d told Shiro in the car.

“Honey, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea this late, after what just happened. I’d probably just rile them up all over again.”

“Please?”

Shiro had made noncommittal noises. Then they got back to the penthouse and told Haruka what happened and she went into a tizzy, exclaiming, “The next Taian day is on Monday and you don’t even have your marriage license yet!” and then Shiro was more than happy to have the excuse of calling Kuro so he could retreat into the master suite.

And that was why, even though it really was late and felt even later due to jet lag, Lance was initially glad to receive his mother’s call informing him that Luis and his family were about to board a red-eye to Miami. Veronica was going to meet them at the airport.

_“He will make it in time to see your wedding, mi cielito.”_

Santo cielo. “Yeah, about that...”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro was back in Shinji’s hotel room for the second time that day, flopped down on his tweed couch. He was still dressed in the mixed separates he’d worn to dinner so he kind of matched with the upholstery. He’d gone ahead and brought the rest of the omiyage with him, stacked in a colorful Trader Joe’s tote bag which now rested on Shinji’s glass-topped coffee table, right next to a patchwork drawstring bag containing the omiyage that would be going back to the Penthouse Suite with Shiro. It was a bit graceless for him to be doing this by proxy, but Shiro was just not up to another tense encounter with Tatsuo nor did he wish one upon Lance or his retainers. Izu had already completed his trade before leaving the penthouse, so it was really just Shinji and Tatsuo left, and Shinji, who had truly worked with all kinds during his long and successful career as a booking agent, good-naturedly waved off any concerns over impropriety.

“You realize that you’re getting married the day after tomorrow, don’t you?” Shinji walked over from the minibar with two tumblers and a comically small bottle of cognac in his hands, looking entirely too amused about the whole thing.

“I do,” Shiro said, “and the only part I regret is the possibility that Lance’s mother hasn’t finished his frock yet.” They could do a civil service in L.A. and then have a big wedding in New York later. That would be fine, right? Lots of people got married like that. Maybe his mother-in-law would even agree with him that it was not the worst arrangement that could have happened, and if she still wanted to clobber him after that then he’d offer his chin to make it easier for her.

The truth was, Shiro had never kept track of the lucky days of the week as assiduously as Haruka did. He’d thought he had more time to work out a plan, and now he couldn’t bow out of it because that would mean losing face, which could have a chilling effect on his business dealings in several countries that took keeping one’s word extremely seriously, no matter what emotional context might have provoked it. There were witnesses to what he’d said, and while Shiro now had his doubts about Tatsuo’s motives, he had no doubt that he would publicly throw it in his face if he tried to make an excuse to procure more time. 

Tatsuo had not allowed Shiro to speak with Kuro on the phone, so Shinji had invited him over to his room and then sneaked Kuro in through a partition on their connected balconies, for which Shinji had the key. They’d been able to speak for about five minutes, during which time they’d had a more personal and meaningful conversation together than ever in the previous seventeen years they’d known each other.

_“Why did Haha keep you away?”_

Shiro had offered words intended to comfort, as he suspected Kuro’s underlying concern was more about his mother’s character than his reasons, and Shiro didn’t have an answer to that question. At the time he’d assumed it was just what stepmothers did. That’s what all the evil stepmothers in stories did, after all. But that had been a child’s reasoning. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Lance said his friend Keith knows of a place where we might be able to get Kuro tested.” Shiro accepted the tumbler from Shinji and held it out for a neat pour. “It’s a supplementary school where the instructors speak Nihongo.”

“Is this the same Keith who is betrothed to Garrett-san?” Shinji sat in the easy chair adjacent to the couch and poured the rest of the cognac into his own tumbler. “This will go more smoothly if so, he and Kuro-chan get on very well together. He is even trusted to escort your brother off the premises, though I don’t know how long that will last once Tatsuo-san discovers that he is friends with your Lance.”

“It’s the same Keith.” That raised another issue that Shiro wished that past him had thought through more thoroughly before putting present him in this situation. “Actually, we’re here to attend their wedding. Lance and Haruka are members of his wedding party.”

Shinji raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the pretext Shiro had used to make his travel plans. “Are they going to have time to do their duties as his assistants if you have to take time out of their schedules for your own wedding?”

“They should have time if we keep our own wedding intimate.” He’d rent a party bus and roll through the drive-thru chapel in Vegas if that’s what it took. “Hey, listen. Would you...”

Shinji waited patiently for Shiro to find his words.

“Would you stand up for me? Be my best man?”

Shinji smiled. “I would be honored.” Then his face turned more serious. “Might I ask a favor of you in return?”

Shiro sipped his cognac and tasted flowers. “Sure, what do you need?”

“We need to find out who your father hired to check into Tatsuo-san’s history, and compel them to share what they learned.” Shinji swirled his cognac in his tumbler, letting it breathe. “I believe that the answers we seek regarding his motivations lie there.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Back in New York City, many freakouts were had. Relatives were called. Plans were raised and discarded, until Darrell finally remembered the existence of the unflappable and hyper-organized answer to their prayers, and called her.

_“I’m on it,”_ said Omnia, and they all heaved a sigh of relief, and then more calmly got back to work. They all had tasks they wanted to fulfill before the inevitable stampede for the airport.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro strode down the hall, intent on getting to Lance’s room, propriety could go suck an egg. As he stalked past the Shinobus’ room, the door opened and he was yanked inside.

“You can apply for your marriage license online in California and you don’t have to be a resident as long as you get married in California. It’s good for ninety days.” Haruka pulled him by the hand over to the secretary desk, which looked like a paper blizzard had befallen it. “You will have to go pick it up yourselves on Monday morning. With I.D. Both of you have to go in person. But if you apply online first it will be much faster.” She had pencils randomly stuck in her hair. “And you won’t have to find an officiant because I have just been ordained as a minister in a church I have never heard of before tonight.” 

“Thank you, Haruka.” Shiro was genuinely touched that she had stopped whatever she’d been doing to look all of that information up for him when her only job here and now was supposed to be as Keith’s bridesmaid. “I’ll apply tomorrow.”

“No, you must apply now!” Haruka wrung his hand anxiously. The pencils in her hair quivered. “You must, because tomorrow is Butsumetsu!”

Shiro looked past her, at the secretary desk where Haruka’s trusty Toshiba Tecra had the online application helpfully pulled up on its screen. His gaze scanned to the left. Kai leaned halfway on the bed fully clothed, like he’d just collapsed there. He managed to raise one arm in a beseeching gesture.

“I’ll do it now,” Shiro agreed.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Colleen had gotten up bright and early to collect her rental, a little mint green Chevy Spark. Not many florists were open on Sundays in Brussels, and of those that were, most kept shorter business hours, so Colleen decided to go ahead and clear that errand and then have breakfast before heading out to Chievres. If the flowers should wilt a little before they reached their ultimate destination, so much the better.

Colleen parallel parked across the street from the flower shop, taking note of an open café in the building next door to it, which should save her even more time. Time she might need to talk down a certain somebody who she’d heard from Ryan was beyond recalcitrant about the day’s itinerary. She walked in past the nursery plants, continued strolling past bouquets in buckets. She’d called her order in the previous day, so she didn’t need to browse the shop’s available stock.

The shop clerk, a young beta with light brown hair and a dark brown smock, had the bouquet waiting for her on the wooden counter. Each stem had been secured in a water vial and the profusion of blooms then placed in an urn planter.

“Mrs. Holt?” The young woman’s accent gave the name a pleasing lilt. 

“That’s me.” Colleen stepped up to the counter.

“I have for you twenty purple rhododendrons arranged as you requested.”

As Colleen settled her order, she noticed the clerk was treating her with an especially delicate reserve and it occurred to her that the girl probably thought she needed these flowers for a funeral.

Well, it wouldn’t be a literal funeral, but the clerk’s instincts were pretty good.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“You were right, mantyhose is the shit.” Keith snuggled under his comforter, content with life.

_“Oh yeah?”_

“Yeah but we didn’t do it.” Keith let Lance splutter for a minute before adding, “it’s cool though. We worked it all out.” They’d talked and talked and then cuddled and then talked some more, and then made out a little bit and then talked even more, and it was more wonderful than if they’d just gone ahead and had sex.

Besides, the anticipation for that eventuality was now extra delicious.

_“Sounds like your night went more to plan than mine did,”_ Lance said, and then told a story that made Keith laugh so hard he nearly fell off the bed.

_“Oh, thanks. Laugh at my angst.”_

“No man, you don’t understand. I’ve been dealing with both my family and his combining to turn our wedding into– ” Keith tried to catch his breath, “into some kind of Megazord of weddings, but you? You go to dinner with your in-laws one time and it’s like, look under your seat, you get a wedding!” 

_“Did I mention that my mom had a litter of kittens on the phone when she found out?”_

Tears popped out of the corners of Keith’s eyes as he tried to hold his sides with one arm.

_“Because she did.”_

“This kind of hot mess could only happen to you.” Keith’s voice went helium high and he couldn’t control it.

_“Wanna be the honor attendant for my hot mess?”_

“Yes, but you better not make me wear something stupid.” Keith wiped his eyes. “I’m wearing enough wild stuff next week without adding some mermaid thing that you can see from space.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lance put his phone back in the charger, glad that at least someone was getting some amusement out of this situation. Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity too, but a stronger part felt an insistent need to go find Shiro. It wasn’t just for reassurance. He felt a certitude that he was needed. He wasn’t sure he could have explained it if asked to do so, nevertheless the feeling persisted like a stream flowing downhill.

He’d changed out of his finery as soon as he was alone in the bedroom, pulling on joggers and a loose t-shirt. Now he shuffled into sneakers and crept to the balcony door, peeking out of the cracked drapes. Outside, nothing moved. Lance carefully opened the door and slipped out.

Lance’s slice of the terrace didn’t have patio furniture, which was probably why it hadn’t occurred to Haruka yet that he had a door that opened onto it. It was a curious feature for an omega’s bedroom, but perhaps the designer had considered that an omega guest might not appreciate feeling cornered in what was meant to be a sanctuary. Lance let the door softly shut behind him and slid with his back against the wall past his own bathroom window. The night air was cool on his bare arms, but not as cold as evenings in New York. He paused a moment to look out at the Los Angeles city lights, twinkling like stars. 

The feeling tugged at him again, so he moved on.

Haruka and Kai’s room didn’t have a door onto the terrace. Instead, they had a giant window like the one in the master suite, with privacy shading so he wouldn’t be able to tell if its drapes were agape without putting his face right up against the glass, which he sure as hell wasn’t going to do. Lance ducked and slowly began to crawl under the window with his side against the stone.

_“Bah! These words are not working! How can a ministry that promotes omnism expect its ministers to use a script generator with only one input for a metaphysical tradition?”_

Lance froze at the sound of Haruka’s frustrated exclamation. She sounded unnervingly close to the window. Kai’s muffled voice came from somewhere farther in the room.

_“Thanks, anata.”_ Haruka sounded much more composed. _“I trust you to make it more spiritually stirring_.” 

Lance didn’t even want to contemplate what that might be about, but he hoped his mother didn’t have her heart set on a traditional Rite of Marriage ceremony. He continued crawling, careful not to stand up too soon. If his shadow should fall across the window, his goose was cooked. When he’d cleared the corner around the dining room area, he finally stood and continued his trek around the perimeter of the terrace.

Shiro’s window was also shaded for privacy, but Lance could feel that invisible thread tightening. His alpha was right on the other side of the glass. Lance didn’t know how he knew that, but neither did he doubt it. He pressed his torso to the glass and squinted. He was rewarded with the sight of a silhouette shifting right in front of him, and a faint echo of surprise that was not his own.

The silhouette - Shiro - stood and moved in the direction that Lance knew led out to the living room. Lance went back around the corner of the terrace to meet him at the double balcony doors with a lump in his throat. Just weeks before they’d begun in this very spot, and look where it was leading them now. Lance wasn’t sure at what point and which place the knowledge that they could be something important to each other had started for Shiro, but for Lance the first glimmerings had happened right here.

One of the doors opened as Lance reached it, so he crossed the threshold and slid right into Shiro’s waiting arms. His rich, singular scent filled Lance’s head as he rose to the balls of his feet to meet his kiss. He leaned back in Shiro’s embrace to take in his welcoming smile before he was led quietly by the hand through the parlor. Back to the master bedroom with its memories of surprising force, for all that they weren’t that far in the past.

Shiro had been sitting on the room’s armless sofa. Its throw pillows were still askew, and his cell phone sat on the end table in front of it with its home screen still bright, indicating it had been used too recently for the lock screen to have engaged. 

Shiro noticed the angle of Lance’s gaze, and said, “I was doing a favor for Shinji. He’s going to stand up for me.” He swallowed. “At our wedding.”

So that’s what was bugging him. Granted, he had charged in without consulting anybody else, but to Lance’s mind he was only responding to a perceived threat against his mate. Lance was in it ride or die, and if a fiasco resulted from it, he’d blame Tatsuo for starting it.

“I asked Keith,” Lance hummed, hoping to relay that he was backing Shiro’s play. “Now I’ve got to find him a bridal party outfit that really can be worn again, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Shiro laughed in a way that sounded almost painful. 

Lance hugged him around the waist. “Are you okay?”

Shiro let another gasped chuckle escape. “You’re asking me? What about you? Your mother is going to kill me.”

“She might give you an earful when she gets here, but she won’t kill you.” Lance leaned his chin on Shiros shoulder and rocked him side to side. “She likes you. And I love you. So, if she somehow overcomes her liking of you and decides to kill you, she’ll still have to deal with me.”

Shiro leaned back to cradle Lance’s cheek in one hand. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I hope I’m never foolish enough to try.” Shiro folded Lance closer again to rest their foreheads together. “Letting you into the car that night was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shinji kicked back in his room’s easy chair with a cold bottle of lemon-lime fizz from the minibar, his dual-screen phone open in his free hand. He had been correct in his assumption that Shiro, as the current head of the Shirogane family, would have to apply his influence to convince the private detective to release any documents. The PI, a woman named Saeko who it turned out had a memory like a steel trap, had forwarded several encrypted files to Shiro, who had then shared them with Shinji.

He set down his drink on the end table and opened the jar of M&Ms which Shiro had so thoughtfully gifted him, settling in for what he anticipated would be a long night absorbed in reading about the past which Tatsuo kept so closely guarded against his chest.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Pidge stood up from her ergonomic gaming chair and stretched. Idly, and not for the first time, she considered changing her major. Her favorite MMORPG’s graphics could use an update, and who better to tackle that challenge than a longtime fan? UCLA had a great computer animation program that could give her the solid credentials to make a credible bid. 

But if she did that, then the deferred admission agreement she’d successfully negotiated with them would be back on the bargaining table and her gap year working for Hawkins Aircraft Company might wind up foreshortened. It was better to leave it as it was for now. She could just apply for a double major later on down the road.

Bae Bae snorted awake from her doggie bed when Pidge stepped around her sit-stand desk.

“Dog park then pizza?”

Bae Bae’s tail wagged so hard at the suggestion that her whole butt wiggled back and forth. Pidge tromped down the steep staircase out of her loft office into the living room of her one bedroom apartment, with Bae Bae trotting at her heels like a mountain goat. Her mother would read her chapter and verse about giving pizza to the dog if she knew, but Pidge knew that Bae Bae also had a stomach like a goat and could handle one slice of pizza with no ill effects.

Speaking of moms, though. Pidge stopped in the kitchen to pick her cell phone up off the counter before grabbing Bae Bae’s harness and leash off the peg by the door. The most recent text message from Colleen had a time stamp of just a few minutes prior, while Pidge had still been wearing a noise-canceling headset clamped around her ears.

_Your brother is being himself today._

That was completely unsurprising to Pidge. Somehow Colleen had managed to raise both of her children to adulthood without ever getting used to their proclivity for acting just like her. Since she didn’t have anything useful to offer in response to that text, Pidge put her phone in her belt holster alongside the doggie doo bag dispenser and took Bae Bae out for walkies.

Pidge let Bae Bae off the leash when they reached the apartment complex’s small dog park. The terrier took off at a run, a silver streak under a bright moon, eager to find out which of the complex’s other dogs had left interesting smells for her to investigate. It was while she was snuffling a bush in a way that made Pidge’s hand hover over the bag dispenser that her cell phone suddenly chimed a flagged email alert.

Pidge opened the email. Well, well, well. Look who was finally getting hitched to somebody completely out of left field.

> _...not sure what time it will be yet, but it will definitely be on Monday and probably a very small ceremony and reception held somewhere in the hotel. I realize this is really short notice and it’s terribly rude of me to email you an invitation before I’ve even worked out all of the details, but I remember our conversation and I’d feel terrible if I lost a chance to reconnect because I failed to reach out in time..._

Damn straight.

> _...you can bring a guest, bring your whole family if they can make it but I would understand completely if they can’t..._

Pidge grinned and thumbed open a reply.

> _Bet your ass I’m coming and count me in for the plus one._

She tapped send and then forwarded the email to her mother with an additional message:

_Put Matt on a plane and tell him I’ll pick him up at LAX._

There. That ought to keep her mother off her back and her brother out of trouble, at least for a little while. Pidge was the Holt family MVP. Now she just had to figure out what the hell she should wear to a last-minute wedding when she didn’t even know how formal it was going to be.


	9. The Tide Is High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colleen Holt crashes a party. Shiro and Shinji have a serious discussion. Lance, Keith and Kuro go shopping. Lance's fam is on the move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks again for kudos and comments, and another shout out to PyroInfinite and Inoshi, I'm glad you are enjoying this fic which was so fun for me to write.

  
As his mother-in-law pushed the little rented city car down the motorway at 120 klicks per hour, Ryan Kinkade found himself in the unexpected position of feeling thankful for the intervention of Takashi Shirogane, unintentional though it may have been. He didn’t think anything less than a once-in-a-lifetime event could have convinced Matt to let go of his resolve to crash Honerva Manigford’s cocktail party. Now they just had to get him to the airport on time to make his flight. Colleen had gotten Sam on the phone to help her shake loose enough extra funds out of their budget for a business class seat on a flight to Heathrow. Ryan had been able to use his military discount to assure a first class ticket on a connecting flight from Heathrow to LAX.

All of this meant that Ryan would be spending the remainder of his TDY alone, and Colleen would be returning home in Economy class the whole way. “Worth it,” had been Colleen’s take on the matter, and Ryan had to agree, even as the object of his concern in the backseat was still steaming mad and refusing to talk to either of them. Matt sat in stormy silence with purple flowers invading his personal space when Ryan checked on him via the rear-view mirror.

Ryan would gratefully live in the doghouse for the rest of their lives if it meant his mate was safe from any more conniving initiated by that malefactor Lotor Manigford.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
After five hours on a crowded airplane and two more trying to clear customs and immigration, Nadia and Sylvio were ready to rampage and Luis was ready to let them. All those hours in the crowded economy section, and the only distraction had been the cookies they’d been given mid-flight and their fellow passengers, some of whom had been less than thrilled to be peppered with ‘why’ questions from small humans. Lisa was exhausted from trying to ride herd on their restless curiosity. As fortune would have it though, their excitability had caused the family to be waved through the line faster just so other people wouldn’t have to be trapped with them. 

Now they were finally on their way to the baggage claim to pick up their hastily-packed belongings, and who was this angel waiting by the turnstile with their luggage already stacked beside her? Were his tired eyes deceiving him into thinking his sister was standing there grinning at him?

“¡Tía Vero!”

Nadia and Sylvio were off and running before he or Lisa could stop them, but Veronica, for indeed it was she, knelt and caught them both up in her arms easily.

“I missed you both, but you can’t run away from your parents like that around here.”

They apologized with chastened expressions, but Luis knew it was just a matter of time before they forgot their promise to behave. Hopefully they’d be somewhere surrounded by family by then.

“Luis.” Veronica gave him a big hug, which he returned.

“So glad to see you, hermana.” It had only been a couple of weeks but it felt like years.

“I’m afraid you’re about to hate me.”

“¿Por qué?”

“Do you remember our conversation about attending Lancito’s wedding?”

Luis held his sister by the shoulders, searching her face. “I missed it?” He had so hoped never to miss any more of his littlest brother’s milestones.

“No, but he’s getting married tomorrow and they’re in California.”

Lisa threw up her hands with an incredulous laugh as she figured out what that meant a second before her husband did.

“More planes?”

Veronica smiled sympathetically. “Not yet. I’m taking you all home with me for some hot food and a good night’s rest. We’ll take an early flight out there tomorrow, a lady who works for hermanito’s alpha is arranging it for us, and the hotel rooms too. All you have to worry about right now is eating and sleeping.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Mamá, the Uber is here!”

“I am coming, cálmate, they will think I raised you in a barn.”

Vibiana came down the stairs with the last and most precious piece of luggage, the garment bag holding Lance’s frock. She had finished it. All it needed was one last fitting, which she would complete before the day was out, so help her. It would also need some accessories, which Omnia had assured her they should be able to find when they got to their destination, even with the little time that they had left. God bless that woman, Vibiana hoped Shiro was paying her enough.

When she got down to the parlor floor landing, there stood her son and daughter with a young man who clearly had eyes for Rachel, and her son had a familiar pair of ribboned flat shoes hooked in his fingers. Marco grinned big when he saw his mother.

“Mamá, I called Mirana and told her what happened, and she sold us the shoes and delivered them in person!” He was so happy with himself. “The shop was not even open yet, how smooth am I?”

“So smooth you hold those fancy shoes in your two fingers like chanclas?” she chided him, but she could hardly keep the smile off her own face as this was one less thing to worry about. 

“How are you so sure that Lance will like those?” Rachel wanted to know.

“Such little faith in me.” Marco put a hand on his chest in mock offense. “I know Lance will like these because in all the frocks you made him put on at the shop, he never took off these shoes, and he could have, so obviously he liked them. As for why I am holding them like this, I was waiting for you, Mamá, so I could put them in a pocket on the garment bag, that way they will be together with the frock, easy to find.”

Vibiana gave Marco the praises he was due. Her middle son was so laid back and breezily charming that he could fool people into believing there wasn’t much going on upstairs, but in reality he was sharp as a tack.

“Here, let me help you with that,” the other young man on the landing said to Rachel, who had two carry-on bags strapped across her torso and was trying to lift a third one instead of just making two trips. For such a smart girl, she was not always very sensible. Through the open door behind them, Vibiana could see a Chevy Suburban idling down at the curb and a dark-haired woman sorting luggage into the back of it.

“Give me the shoes and go help her,” Vibiana said to Marco, nodding toward the door.

Marco did as she asked and Vibiana took a moment to study this other young man making with the suave toward her younger daughter. He was a handsome young beta, dressed nicely in black with the sort of spiky haircut that seemed fashionable in this city. He had similarly shaped eyes to Shiro but otherwise did not look anything like Vibiana’s imminent son-in-law.

“Mamá, this is Daniel,” Rachel said as she gave up the third carry-on bag to the now-named Daniel to help Vibiana secure the shoes in a side pocket of the garment bag. “He works with Shiro.”

“Daniel Li.” He easily hefted the bag in one hand to leave the other free to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

He had gracious enough manners, but he’d need more than that to get Rachel to realize he was pitching woo. As she accepted his handshake, Vibiana noticed that he wore a ring with a medal of Saint Christopher on it. She decided that she would keep her observations to herself until she could get a better feel for this would-be suitor’s intentions.

The lady sorting luggage turned out to be Omnia, as Vibiana had suspected on first sight. She was smartly and sensibly dressed in a blue turtleneck sweater over leggings, her manners polite while still giving off the impression that she suffered no fools. When they had all settled inside the large SUV and their driver set off to pick up Flaco on the way to the airport, Omnia passed a tablet behind her to where Vibiana was sitting in the middle row.

“I’ve tabbed the bridal store and the florist that will still be open on our route from LAX to the hotel,” Omnia said. “We can pre-order, and they can have whatever can’t be delivered waiting for us to pick up when we get there.”

Whatever Shiro was paying this woman, she had more than earned it. Vibiana thanked her profusely as Rachel, who was sitting next to her, gently took the tablet from her hands to take over the task of looking for the remaining items they required.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Matt reclined as much as he could in his business class seat. This airline’s interpretation of business class was to create more room between seats in a row than between the rows themselves. That was fine, at least he wouldn’t have to tolerate an alpha or beta surreptitiously trying to get a better sniff of him when there was an extra large armrest and big poufy headrests blocking easy access.

He watched Belgium get smaller out of the window while trying to visualize his state of being mad getting smaller too. It wasn’t just that he was missing out on his chance to do more exploring in a country he’d never been to before, or that he was missing out on another opportunity to glare right in Lotor Manigford’s smug face while communicating ‘fat chance, fucker’ with his eyes, or even that he had hours of more flight time to look forward to before attending the wedding of his ex (whom he considered a friend he would always think of more fondly than not but _still_ ). It was that his husband was walking into a treacherous situation without him there at his side. But if he was being perfectly honest with himself, more than any of those things it was that when Ryan found out about this, the first thing he did was to call Matt’s mom.

His _mom_. Fuck it, he was still mad.

“Good afternoon, serah.” The flight attendant leaned slightly across the seat of Matt’s nearest neighbor to get his attention. “Will you be having the blanc de noir with your afternoon tea?”

“Yes,” Matt decided at once, “I will, thank you.”

If the bubbly alcohol didn’t improve his mood, then picturing his mother’s face when she saw it on the bill surely would. It didn’t cost that much in the grand scheme of things, but for a single glass the markup was pretty ridiculous, which would drive her crazy.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Ryan shifted in the passenger’s seat of the city car, still not entirely comfortable wearing a suit that was not one of his uniforms. It was grey flannel, double-breasted with a maroon tie and pocket square, about as close to feeling like the uniform as he could approach in civilian attire. Colonel Graham had been quite clear that in spite of the fact that he was attending this shindig under orders, he must not do so while visibly representing the USAF.

Colleen had the airline’s app open on her phone so that she could monitor whether the plane carrying Matt was subject to any delays. They had both breathed sighs of relief when it took off on time. Flight data continued to stream in a soothing digital display. Then the app suddenly spoke in a robotic female voice, _“Thank you for your purchase.”_

“Did he just buy a drink?” Colleen’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as she glanced down at the phone’s screen. “I can’t believe him! You could get a whole bottle of sparkling wine on the ground for what they charge for one glass in the air!”

Ryan’s lips tried to quirk into a smile as he did his best to keep a straight face. _Well played, my love. Well played._

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Despite the day supposedly being unlucky, Haruka rousted all of their butts out of bed bright and early and gathered them in the dining room for breakfast. They sat around the table over steaming cups of rice, miso soup, coffee and tea as she handed out marching orders. The thin light outside of the windows was as cloudy as the soup, promising a drizzly day ahead. Lance was just awake enough to silently reminisce over that fact that they were eating on a surface that had once been used for some of messiest sex he and Shiro had yet gotten up to.

“Shirogane-san.” Haruka looked to Shiro. “You must secure a venue and acquire the rings.”

Shiro nodded, adorably sleepy-eyed. “You can count on me.”

“And Lance.” Haruka turned her flinty gaze his way, interrupting his horny daydreaming. She was always at her most truculent first thing in the morning. “You must find suitable clothing for Keith to wear.”

“I’m all over it,” Lance promised. “Guess I might as well get my own while I’m at it.”

“No!” Shiro sat up suddenly wide awake. “I mean, there’s no reason for you to do that, Lance.”

Lance regarded Shiro suspiciously across the table. “You’ve already seen everything that’s in my closet here,” he pointed out. “I’m gonna look a little strange standing next to you in any of those outfits while you’re in a tux.”

Lance didn’t even have to ask if Shiro had brought a tux. Even if they hadn’t come here to attend someone else’s wedding, this was an alpha who always had a clean tux near to hand in case of the sort of formalwear emergencies that seemed to happen to Shiro with a fair amount of regularity.

“Yes, but,” Shiro shifted nervously, “you see, the thing is, your mother will be here by tonight, and um...”

“I knew it!” Lance couldn’t believe he’d caught him out this easily. “You and Mamá have been conspiring on a frock!”

“But it doesn’t have puffy sleeves!” Shiro proclaimed, drawing himself up in full alpha authoritative posture.

Lance blinked into the silence that reverberated in the wake of that announcement. “Okay,” he said. “I trust you, querido.”

Shiro let his posture go in a gust of relief. “Thanks honey.”

“What’s your game plan for today, then?” Lance asked Haruka as he poured himself another cup of coffee. He set the thermal carafe down on a pot holder resting right where his own derriere had once rested. Ah, mem’ries...

“I will be coordinating with Omnia to ensure that your wedding does not turn into a disaster of epic proportions.”

Fair.

“And Kai will be assisting me.”

Yeah, that was also fair.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
In the living room, guests stood ‘round under the light of the crystal chandelier with tulip-shaped glasses of genever in hand, some with added sugar, some without. Lotor took his without. The ancestor of gin had more than enough sugar naturally to suit his palate. He hid his mouth in another dram of spirits, disguising his reaction to his cousin Bocar blowing his own trumpet about his latest conquest whom nobody had ever met or seen, so his braggadocious story could not be contradicted even though it certainly deserved to be. Who among their social class would ever fall for a line that Bocar was in line for a title?

“Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade and guest.”

Lotor gladly turned away from Bocar’s tall tale at the sound of Herreh introducing the party guest he’d been waiting for especially, the only one whom he’d personally invited. The one that got away was always a worthy distraction, and he was in a mood to be distracted. He excused himself and strode across the Savonnerie carpet, its hand-knotted silver scrolls unrolling across its blue background like Aphrodite’s foam as he made for the landing.

Ryan Kinkade stood with his back to the stairs, looking manfully strapping and also entertainingly uncomfortable in an off-the-rack suit. He nodded tersely at Lotor to thwart a need to shake hands, and Lotor nodded back. He did not particularly want to touch the other alpha either. What the vivacious Matthew Holt saw in this clod Lotor still failed to comprehend. 

Then Kinkade stepped aside so that his ‘plus one’ could alight upon the stair landing. Alabaster hands held a vase bristling with purple blooms; not the azaleas which Lotor loved but some cultivar that was similar in appearance. The flowers were so profuse that they hid the holder’s face, only a tuft of gingery blonde hair showing over their ruffled tops.

“Purple flowers, my very favorite.” Lotor reached out to take them, and take advantage of the opportunity to touch soft hands in the process. “You needn’t have.”

“It’s traditional to bring a gift of flowers for the host of a party,” replied an unexpectedly female voice. “I suppose I should have waited to hand these over to your mother but I do thank you for taking care of it personally, Lotor.”

Lotor turned sideways to peer around the ludicrously large bouquet and found himself staring not into the wide hazel eyes of a sprightly omega, but into the spiteful eyes of that omega’s mother. That disagreeable woman who had chased him off a continent in her baseless quest for satisfaction over a matter that should have never been any of her damned business in the first place. Standing next to her, Kinkade had the audacity to smirk at his little shell game.

That was all very well and fine. They’d see who was still smirking after Lotor called in his own guard dogs.

“Acxa!”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Acxa was, if not in her element, at least at ease chatting up guests as they tried hors d’oeuvres in the dining room. Lotor had done an expected rout of the menus in order to make the food secondary to the drinks, but Acxa knew ways to use even the humble cocktail weenie as a launch pad for party conversations, if that was all she had to work with. Luckily most of Narti’s picks had been given the green light, so she had a nice selection of locally made cheeses which she could converse about quite knowledgeably. People could be frightfully curious about whatever food item they were contemplating putting in their mouths, but especially cheese. The combination of ingredients sourced from the teats and stomach of another mammal along with the processes of culturing and fermentation made some diners either overly anxious or overly excited.

“You really should consider doing this for a living, darling.” Neffra, a tall blonde security consultant, had been hovering near her all afternoon. “You’d make money hand over fist.”

Neffra might have also been flirting with her, but it had been so long since anyone had dared to openly hit on her that Acxa wasn’t positive that she could trust her intuition. Lotor had stopped wearing his wedding ring, so Acxa saw no reason to wear hers anymore either. She’d assumed she’d get some questioning looks from party-goers who were acquainted with them as a couple. She had not anticipated becoming the focus of anyone’s personal attention, much less a beautiful alpha like Neffra. Now, why was that?

“Acxa!”

There it was. The reason she hadn’t been flirted with in a month of Sundays, yelling for her like a five year-old.

“Pardon me.” Acxa was good at schooling her expressions, but sometimes Lotor could try the patience of a saint, which she was not.

“Hurry back,” Neffra replied. 

Oh, my. She was definitely flirting, and it felt... nice. Acxa wasn’t sure that she wanted to do anything about it, but it felt good to have someone look at her and see someone they might like to get to know in a more intimate fashion.

She was still pondering that lovely feeling of having options, when she walked up to Lotor and saw that screwed up look on his face, and then she saw the reason why. Well, he shouldn’t have shit in the bed if he didn’t want to smell the stink.

“Take these to Mother at once,” he told her as he shoved a giant container of flowers at her. “They’ll need water, I imagine.”

Acxa imagined he wanted her to search the bouquet for bugs, but if she were Colleen Holt crashing this party in person then she wouldn’t have bothered. Still, she’d look. She had no interest in getting caught up in whatever net Holt was pulling around Lotor, and part of protecting herself right then and there meant protecting Lotor by virtue of the fact that she currently lived in his mother’s row house.

She carried the flowers to the galley kitchen and let herself in past the closed pocket door. Narti sat on the windowsill with her phone in her hand, probably checking security cameras by remote. She looked up as Acxa came in.

“Is that an urn?”

Acxa set the flowers down in the kitchen sink. “You know what? I think it is.” She started pulling flowers out of the urn. Each one of the twenty stems had a plastic water vial on its end.

Narti came over to stand hip to hip with Acxa and started checking vials with quick, economical hand and wrist movements. “Saw Neffra chatting you up out there. She’s smokin’ hot.”

Acxa glanced sideways at Narti as she shook the urn upside down over the sink. “She is rather attractive, isn’t she.” She ran her hands over the curving inside and outside of the urn.

“She’s stacked like a deck of cards,” Narti replied flatly, with a side eye that said she was not fooled by Acxa’s studied cool. “You gonna deal yourself in?”

“Cripes Narti, I don’t know.” Acxa’s warm ‘options’ feeling began to boil into something more agitated. “I’m barely separated, I haven’t even technically moved out yet.”

“Sorry.” Narti hip-checked her. “I didn’t mean to give you stress.”

“It’s fine.” Acxa wondered why Narti was so curious. She knew Narti took professional pride in her espionage capabilities but she was not by nature a gossip.

_“Narti!”_ The male voice came from just outside the kitchen’s closed pocket door. _“I hear you in there tidy lass. Open up for daddy! Nartinartinartinartinartinarti...”_

Narti heaved a groan of frustration. “Go home Throk, you’re drunk!”

Acxa remembered Throk, he was a business associate of Lotor’s. What she didn’t remember was his name being on the guest list. “What’s this about?”

“My greatest regret in life,” Narti said.

_“I’m still your husband, Narti!”_

“Only because you keep contesting the divorce for custody of my cat!”

“You?” Acxa set the urn down in the sink. “You got married?”

Narti tucked a strand of thick black hair behind her ear as she turned to Acxa with entreating eyes. “Yes, but I came to my senses.”

_“Nartiiiiiiiii...”_

It wasn’t that Acxa couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be married to Narti. Even with her aversion to cosmetics she was beautiful; her companionship invigoratingly acerbic, like the freshly peeled grapefruit her scent mimicked. It was that Acxa couldn’t imagine Narti wanting to marry... well, anyone, much less the sort of man who would stand outside a closed door drunkenly braying for her attention when she clearly did not want to give it.

“How did he even get in here?” 

“Tagged along as Karsh’s plus one.”

That was a name Acxa did remember seeing on the guest list.

“I’ll get rid of him for you.”

“Thank you,” Narti breathed, almond eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re the best.”

Neffra’s attention had felt pleasant, like the top layer of pool water on a hot sunny day, but Narti’s thanks felt even sweeter in a way that Acxa wasn’t sure if she was ready to quantify yet.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk decided to get up early, because he just had a feeling. Also, he could smell coffee, and when he entered the kitchen he found Keith putting the finishing touches on a serving platter stacked with fluffy pancakes. A bowl of cut strawberries and bottles of honey and maple syrup already rested on the dining room table. Hunk held his curiosity in abeyance as he stole a kiss while helping set the table for breakfast.

When they sat across from each other to fill up their plates, Keith was grinning that ‘I’ve got a secret’ grin that was capable of simultaneously giving Hunk butterflies and tummy grumbles.

“So.” Keith picked up a strawberry piece in his fingers and popped it in his mouth, staining his lips a kissable red. “You’ll never guess what happened last night.”

Hunk paused in cutting up his pancakes. “Please don’t leave me in suspense, babe.”

Keith smiled brightly and told him, and Hunk laughed. “Oh, man. He really put himself in a tight corner this time, didn’t he?” Hunk’s crazy short-notice wedding preparations seemed like the carefully measured stratagem of a long-term planner by comparison.

“You know what this means, right?” Keith drizzled honey on his pancakes.

“I’m pretty sure this means he’s about to owe me a favor.” There was very little chance Shiro wasn’t hoping to hold the reception somewhere inside the hotel, if not the ceremony itself. Hunk paused, fork held aloft. “Hey, I wonder if he’s thought of music for the ceremony yet.” This could be the opportunity Allura and Shay had been hoping for to repay Shiro for his help.

“It also means I have to take Lance out tonight for his last night as a free omega, since I’m his honor attendant.” Keith licked honey off his lips, an irresistible draw for the eyes. “Can I borrow the car?”

“You still coming to temple service with me first?” Hunk scanned the table for the honey bottle. 

Keith passed it over to him. “Sure thing.” 

They needed to finalize their plans for the first wedding rite. It was only polite that they attend service and leave a donation before taking up their celebrant’s time, even though this Buddhist temple was a different one than the one Hunk had gone to as a child, and Keith hadn’t been a regular visitor for years. It was important to Keith’s family, so they would do it. Maybe they’d even manage to achieve some tranquility. They could both use it with the way that events seemed to keep steamrolling.

“How about you drive me to work after, and then you can have the car for the rest of the day?” Hunk asked. 

He hadn’t planned on dropping into work early, but he wanted to float the idea past Shiro of asking Allura and Shay to perform at his wedding. Hunk knew they’d say yes if asked. They’d already bowed out of performing in that week’s live-scored film series and its accompanying rehearsals so that they could attend his own wedding, so the main issue would be getting them to Los Angeles in time, which he was certain Shiro could pull off if properly motivated. In addition to that, Coran would adore a chance to spend some time with them that wasn’t rushed.

“Sounds good to me.” Keith stole a strawberry off Hunk’s plate with a saucy wink. He had Hunk wrapped around his little finger and knew it, and Hunk had no objections about that whatsoever.

He was looking forward to letting Keith steal food off of his plate for the rest of their lives. But first they had to get through the rest of that week.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“We didn’t find any bugs, ma’am.” 

The three of them stood in the partially closed-off parlor. The party was nearing the point where the fashionable people had other places to be, so there were no longer any drunks lolling on the couches to witness this exchange. Narti let Acxa do the talking while she kept a discreet lookout for Neffra on the make. Acxa had been as good as her word and had Throk ‘escorted’ to a waiting taxi, but that glamazon was still around somewhere, waiting to pounce.

“No, she’s let the flowers and her unwanted presence do the talking for her.” Honerva glared at the flowers which had been put back in their original container with fresh water and placed on an end table. “In an urn, no less. How garish.”

“Flowers, ma’am?” Acxa had always possessed a lively curiosity under her veneer of sober efficiency.

“The language of flowers, child.” Honerva flicked at a purple petal. “Holt fairly shouted with it.”

Acxa deserved much better than Lotor ever had to offer her, and she surely deserved to get laid if she wanted to. So why did it bother Narti so much? Sure Neffra slept around, but Acxa was a grown ass woman who could decide for herself if she wanted to indulge in bedroom games.

“Narti.”

“Ma’am.” Narti was good at ruminating while standing at ease and staring off into the middle distance, but somehow Honerva usually caught her out. It used to impress the hell out of her. Lately it just irked.

“Do what you do best and if you find so much as a geolocating app active on her cell phone, notify me at once.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She doubted she’d even find a mobile phone on Holt’s person, but she’d look, and she’d pretend to misunderstand the unspoken insinuation that she should plant something on Holt or Kinkade. She didn’t give a hoot if it made her look to be off her game in Honerva’s eyes. Acxa was currently in far too vulnerable a position for either of them to risk tweaking Holt’s nose without a damn good reason, and showing up just to irritate Lotor wasn’t one.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Colleen was careful to only select drinks she’d seen poured from bottles that everyone was being served from, and then careful to only pretend to drink them before finding a potted plant to feed. Like Kore in the underworld, she had to keep her wits about her in this place. Ryan was doing the same, before he got pulled into a three-way conversation with a strident young woman named Merla and an older gentleman, ex-military by his combination of an upright carriage with non-regulation hair, but which service was a mystery as he wore no ribbons or pins. He looked just as uncomfortable at this party as Ryan did. 

Honerva had glided through the room glad-handing guests, locked eyes with Colleen for long enough to communicate her opprobrium, and then glided out again, no doubt collecting her underlings in order to figure out a plan for dealing with the gate crasher. Colleen went to the refreshment table to let her eyes wander over the finger foods she had no intention of eating, while listening to conversations taking place in her vicinity. There, she ran into a familiar chiseled face.

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

“I could say the same of you.” Thace smiled politely. “The view from the living room window is quite interesting. Let’s appreciate it and catch up a little.”

Colleen seemed to recall that the view from the living room window looked out over an alley full of shops and street vendors, but she doubted Thace really had that kind of people watching in mind when he made the suggestion, so she agreed and went with him. 

“Old Manigford has granted the NCA access to transaction data from his son’s trust fund.” Thace looked down at a man on the street trying to juggle four takeaway coffees with the same placid expression other people might wear while watching the sunset.

“Good news for your team, I bet.” Colleen knew that Lotor’s white collar crimes remained the primary focus of Thace’s investigation.

“If an indictment is in the offing, I expect it will be good news for yours as well,” Thace replied. “Seeing as how we now know exactly who is harboring him.”

Saying the names aloud was no longer strictly necessary at this point in the conversation. Or all that prudent. “If she’s smart she’ll move him.” Can’t extradite what can’t be found.

“She never plays it smart where he’s concerned.” Thace raised his eyes from the scene of grief over spilled coffee playing out below to meet Colleen’s gaze. “I trust you understand that makes her exceptionally dangerous.”

“I’m not wired.” She knew better than to risk inciting a political shitstorm that could only hamper her investigation. “Neither were the flowers.”

“She’s not above planting one.”

Colleen turned sideways at the window and made a casual visual circuit of the room, looking for Honerva’s daughter-in-law and Lotor’s shadow.

“If you’re looking for the usual suspects,” Thace said mildly, “neither of them have seemed overly concerned for his woes in recent days. I suspect that they are biding time to extricate themselves as gracefully from the situation as they can.”

“You gonna recruit ‘em as moles?”

“If it’s expedient. Honerva will catch scent of their true sympathies, she’s good at that. Then she’ll tap another acolyte to do her bidding.” Thace nodded subtly toward the corner where Ryan and the other military man in civilian dress were watching Merla hold forth, apparently in horrified fascination of whatever she was saying. “My money’s on the redhead.”

“Thanks for the tip.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

There was a good chance he meant that literally. With that last warning in mind, Colleen set forth to rescue her son-in-law from an awkward party conversation.

“...if they had a lunch to replace the one they took they would have done so, wouldn’t they? Or they would have bartered with something else if they wanted a fair trade, but they didn’t offer, so obviously they just wanted to steal and because of that I should be allowed to booby trap my lunchbox with a glitterbomb!”

Colleen crowded right into the huddle and hooked her arm with Ryan’s. “Please tell Honerva that we thank her for her hospitality but he’s needed on base so we have to go.” She nodded to the unknown military man, an alpha who blinked out of his stupor at the sudden interruption. “Good day to you, sir.”

“To you as well, madame,” he said, and to Ryan, “Kinkade. A genuine pleasure.”

“The feeling is mutual Kolivan,” Ryan said. “Hopefully we’ll meet again.”

Colleen let them have another microsecond of their impromptu meeting of the mutual alpha admiration society before she steered Ryan resolutely towards the stairs. She felt eyes on her back all the way down the staircase, across the ground floor lobby and out the front door, but nobody said a word to stop them, so Thace’s prediction had apparently not yet come true. She didn’t ease up on her brisk pace until they were far down the street.

“Did you get what you needed?” Ryan asked once they were in the relative safety of the Chevy Spark, which Colleen had made sure to park several streets over, out of direct view of the row house.

“And then some,” Colleen replied as she started the engine. “You?”

“I learned of the many and varied ways to use paint squibs to shame one’s coworkers.” He buckled his seat-belt. “I don’t know if I’ll ever actually need such information, but now I’ll never have to wonder.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shinji offered to split a cheese and charcuterie plate, but Shiro could no longer look at such a dish without his mind immediately jumping to Lance spread out on the dining table in a ravishing display, so he offered to cover the check for a double order of sliders instead. It was bad enough that they were taking an early lunch in the same lounge where Shiro and Lance had once christened a piano. Thankfully the piano was not within Shiro’s line of sight, as he and Shinji had chosen a table tucked into a corner, away from prying eyes and ears. 

Once their order was in and their iced tea glasses rolling condensation down to their drink coasters, Shinji glanced around and asked, “Have you read any of it?”

“Not much yet,” Shiro confessed. “I’ve been a little busy.” 

He’d fallen asleep on the sofa with his very soon-to-be spouse in his arms, and then had to play decoy so that Lance could sneak back to his room via the terrace when Haruka had come knocking. Then there had been a phone conversation with a Tiffany’s customer service agent who had assured him that they could get wedding rings engraved in a very short turnaround time, and an in-person conversation with the valiant Nadia Rizavi who assured him she could find him an onsite venue to host thirty-some-odd people for a wedding and reception on 24 hours notice. In spite of being the catalyst to set this rushed wedding into motion, Tatsuo had not been at the forefront of Shiro’s thoughts.

“Were you aware that Tatsuo used to be a geigi?” Shinji asked.

“Not before last night.” 

Shiro had noticed that detail right away upon skimming Saeko’s report, and it had thrown him for a loop. On reflection though, it did sort of explain why Tatsuo had seemed to come out of nowhere. If his miai with Shiro’s father had been arranged by family, the courtship would have been long enough and the family meet and greets thorough enough that Shiro would have met or at least heard of Tatsuo before the yuino; by letter if nothing else. It had not occurred to him as a child, but now that he was an adult he knew that parents of a bride in a formally arranged courtship would not have been able to resist any opportunity to verify the health, looks and intelligence of a groom’s existing progeny for themselves. The person he’d been introduced to as Tatsuo’s okaa-san had not done any such thing, and had even seemed too distracted during the yuino to pay Shiro much mind at all.

“I met him when I entertained clients at the teahouse owned by his mentor, and I... I was quite impressed by him. I hired him more and more often when I had business in the area. I found more and more excuses to have business in the area.” Shinji clenched the tea glass hard enough for the ice to rattle. “Shiro... I introduced him to your father. I only thought... Ryu was so lonely. And Tatsuo was such bright company. I never realized what would happen. Shiro, I...”

“You couldn’t have known,” Shiro rushed to reassure him, unwilling to watch him torture himself over something that was not his fault. “Geigi have to retire if they marry, am I correct? So why would you have any reason to believe that could happen, when it would have promised the end of a career that gave him access to a sophisticated lifestyle?”

“They do, and he did,” Shinji confirmed. “It has haunted me for years, wondering if I missed a sign. The suddenness of it was so shocking to me.”

The waiter arrived just then with their sliders and fries. Shiro used the interruption to give Shinji a chance to collect himself, and to remove a skewer from a slider and take a bite that obliterated half of it. He didn’t know if a revelation was coming that would affect his appetite, so he might as well chow down preemptively.

Shinji started on the french fries, dipping them in ketchup. “Everyone knew that Tatsuo had come from some posh flower town. Nobody knew why he would leave such a situation to work in the hinterland of– don’t look at me that way Shiro, where we’re from might be staid and unpretentious in our world, but in the flower and willow world it is a borderline scandalous place for a geigi to call home.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shiro knew there were gaps in his knowledge of things that his cousin knew almost as second nature due to the age at which Shiro been forcibly removed from the culture. “Did the files tell you anything about why he left?”

“They did.” Shinji took a slider off the platter but just moved it to his plate instead of biting into it. “Were you aware that geigi are forbidden to sell their bodies to clients? It’s not some recent custom, either. It was codified into law during the Edo Period as a non-compete clause so that they could ply their trade alongside oiran, the true courtesans.”

Shiro had known that coitus with a stranger for money was the only type of prostitution that was currently strictly illegal in Japan – ironically enough, the exact type of prostitution that Lance had once plied. Plied with Shiro, in point of fact. Shiro had done a whole afternoon’s worth of research that day he’d come to the decision that yes, he was going to allow a prostitute to share his hotel room for a week, and that research had taken him down a few interesting rabbit holes.

“Aren’t there children born and raised to become super geigi?”

Shinji gave him such a look. “Children born to geigi are raised with the hope of them taking over the okiya some day, if they don’t present unfortunately.” Unfortunately in this case being an alpha or beta male. “Why must everything be super? Is it because of Superman?” He tsked Shiro and took a bite of his slider. “If a geigi can find the time to have a sex life, that is their own affair and not against the rules. So long as they are not charging for it. Understand, it is not illegal if they know the client well, which geigi often do, but it is still highly frowned upon, even all these many generations later. To look but not to touch has become part of the geigi’s allure. To undercut that would be a serious breach of protocol.”

Shiro polished off his slider, pondered whether he wanted to grab a second one yet. “Is that what Tatsuo did?”

“It was what he was accused of doing,” Shinji said pointedly. “There was a handsome alpha of exalted lineage spending his wild youth in the district where Tatsuo was a half-jewel. A trainee,” he explained at Shiro’s puzzled look. “This boy took a liking to Izumo – that was Tatsuo’s artist name at the time.”

“Is Tatsuo his real name?”

“It is not the name he was given as a child. Mizuki gave him that name when he was taken in, and for whatever reason did not demand it back when Tatsuo decided to marry. Maybe Mizuki did not want to be the one to take another name away from Tatsuo. He always looked on Tatsuo with a maternal fondness, I don’t know if Tatsuo ever realized.” 

Shinji blinked at the bite of slider left in his hand and set it on his plate. 

“I am getting off the track. Izumo thought this boy’s pimples were dimples, so taken was he, but unfortunately for him this boy – Kouzou was his name – was young and foolish, and wanted something quite different out of their association. Izumo’s eyes were too full of flowers to see the clues Kouzou was dropping, but another in his house took up both the hint and the boy’s invitation to bed. When Kouzou tried to sneak out of the okiya, he attempted to take a soiled obi with him as a keepsake. He got caught. When the half-jewels were booted from their beds to find the culprit, the guilty one was quick to blame Izumo, and since the entire house knew Izumo was in love with Kouzou, the lie was believed. Then Kouzou himself compounded the problem by claiming he had paid for the privilege of keeping the obi, because you see, he still wanted that object, despite that it was resulting in terrible consequences for others. Izumo was cast out and he could not return to the town of his birth– ”

“Why not?”

“Let us just say that he was born into a family who viewed his decision to train as geigi as a final one. So.” Shinji took a sip of tea through his straw. “Izumo was at loose ends, young and on his own and only knowing one trade to support himself with.”

Shiro took a fortifying swallow of tea. He had an inkling of where this might be going.

“He found an ad in the classifieds for furisode-san and got on the train to Taitō-ku.”

That was slightly underwhelming and yet strangely relieving. “You mean the fake geisha?”

Shinji raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you do not want to call them that should you ever meet one. But yes, the entertainers who dress up like geisha but do not live by the customs. Tatsuo went there and interviewed with his birth name, and breezed through their training. He was working in that job and sharing a guest house with several other omega when Mizuki went there six months later hoping to entice some of the furisode-san to apprentice for real.”

Shiro swiped droplets of water from his glass. “How did he let himself be talked into going back to that world, after what happened?”

“Is it really so hard to understand?” Shinji turned knowing eyes on Shiro. “He needed to prove himself. Mizuki offered to help him. He took the chance. And when another opportunity to prove himself came along, he took the chance again.”

Shiro understood that feeling better than he liked to admit. “Why has he suddenly decided to stop taking chances, then?”

“This may be the first time he has ever felt that there was anything precious to lose.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Kuro had been worried that he might be forbidden from seeing Keith again, but when Keith had come upstairs to help him get ready Hahaue had only remarked that Keith was not in his uniform and smelled like temple incense, so Hahaue must not know yet that Keith and Lance were friends. This gave Kuro an opportunity to raise an issue he’d discovered. An urgent issue that needed quick attention. He met Keith’s eyes as he helped him up out of the bath.

“The tablecloth might fly up if I don’t find some way to put weight on the bottom.” 

Kuro did not know why it hadn’t occurred to him before, but while he was divesting himself of his kimono the previous evening it suddenly became as clear in his mind as spring water on a summer day that the nightgown was not heavy enough to ensure that the tablecloth susohiki would not rise up should a sudden breeze flow past. Then everyone would see his feet and the illusion would be ruined and they would probably have to run.

Keith smiled at him. “I know somebody who can help with that, and I was going to go see him next anyway. Want to come with?”

That was how Kuro found himself in Lance’s rooms for the second time in as many days. There was something glamorous about his brother’s bride, even while wielding tiny scissors and a needle and thread to turn one hem of the tablecloth into what he kept referring to as a “batten pocket.”

“We don’t want it to sail up, Lance,” Keith reminded him.

“Will you relax? I’m going to put something heavy in the pocket.” He paused on the last stitch. “Have either of you got any long heavy chain necklaces?”

“That will make noise.” Kuro did not want to antagonize his giri no ani – he was helping them and he did enjoy his cheerful company – but that needed pointing out.

Lance just looked surprised. “Do Japanese ghosts not clank chains?”

“Not unless a chain was involved in the manner of their death.” Kuro did not think they had time to disseminate a legend about a ghost who died by chains in the neighborhood where they were going to deploy their scheme for justice. Wait. “Do gaijin ghosts clank chains?”

“In a lot of the stories they do,” Lance said. “Or they moan. Or sometimes they do both.”

This was good information to know. If he ever heard moaning and clanking chains behind him, Kuro now knew that meant it was time to flee.

“What do you use to pad the hem usually?” Lance asked.

“It’s usually padded on the outside with stiff heavy material, like brocade,” Kuro replied.

“I know where we can find something like that,” Lance grinned. “Let’s go shopping!”

So it was that they set forth out of the hotel and onto the shopping street across the boulevard, after convincing Izu, Kai and Haruka that they were only going to get an outfit for Keith. Lance and Keith linked arms on either side of Kuro to protect him from the possibility of a walk-by groping, although that seemed an unlikely event in Kuro’s opinion. There was a paved road down the middle of this shopping street large enough so that cars could go through it, and go through it they did. The cars seemed more numerous to Kuro than the pedestrians, yet none of the shops on the street were shuttered so they must be getting enough business to stay open. Maybe they were just less busy on that particular day because it was Butsumetsu.

Snatches of music escaped from opening doors on either side of the street as people exited with shopping bags over their arms. Kuro had only spotted one café so far, and no produce or fish vendors. Everything in the shops seemed to be personal adornments. Garments, jewelry, shoes and handbags, but no folding fans. Perhaps that was due to the persistently overcast weather.

“Here it is!” Lance steered the linked omegas over to a shop with a sign that read TERRA in colorful romaji above the door.

The inside of the shop was filled with brightly colored clothing in all sorts of fabrics. They were barely in the door for a few seconds before a tall skinny fellow dressed in a suit of vibrant violet approached them, smiling the pleasant smile of a shopkeeper anticipating a transaction. Then he saw who it was and he smiled even bigger.

“Lance! How are you? How is your alpha? How can I help you? Oh, who is this?”

Kuro had no idea how to begin to answer those questions presented in such quick succession. People in this country were very talky. Fortunately Lance had no problem parsing out how to respond and began excitedly chattering about his wedding plans.

“Oh my word, congratulations! Do you have your wedding gown yet? What about your bridesmaids? Do you have bridesmaids?”

“Keith is my honor attendant!” Lance beamed, then his face took on an aspect of reserve. “Shiro says my mother is bringing my wedding frock but I have no idea what it’s going to look like.” Then he whispered something that sounded like a promise about the sleeves. Did his mother not want to let him wear the furisode one last time?

“What about your accessories? Does Keith have his formalwear yet?”

“That’s why we’re here!” Lance chirped.

“It is?” said Keith warily. He must have thought Lance’s story to Haruka was just an excuse.

“Keith needs an omega suit appropriate for a daytime wedding,” Lance said while smirking at Keith. “And it needs to be the most kick-ass red you’ve got.”

“You’ve come to the right place!” the shopkeeper assured Lance. “Keith my dear, step right this way! Plaxum! Swirn! We have a customer!”

Keith was then swept up in a flurry of shop assistants taking his measurements and peppering him with questions about fabric allergies and whether he needed foundation garments.

“I don’t know,” Keith replied to the second question, “do I?”

“Blumfump!” the shopkeeper called out. “Bring out the lingerie rack!” Then he turned to Lance. “Is there anything in that regard which you might need?”

“Now that you mention it,” Lance said, tapping his lips with one long finger, “I’d probably better get some more hosiery. Just in case.”

“Perhaps I can interest you in something with garters?” the shopkeeper suggested. “It’s traditional you know.”

“Well in that case, how can I refuse?” Lance looked very satisfied with the way things were progressing, but so far nobody had said a word about the brocade.

“And what of you, serah?” The shopkeeper finally turned to Kuro. “I can guess from your lovely features that you are related to the groom. Will you be in the wedding party as well?”

Now was his chance! “My Haha will put me in kimono, but do you have any black brocade which I can use to make an obi?”

An obi was a traditional gift to the bride from the groom’s family, and Kuro did know how to make one, should he be asked to prove it. He was not the most adept seamster compared to Hahaue, but he could muddle through a straightforward project like an obi. A formal obi for a bridal gift was not supposed to be solid black, but perhaps this shopkeeper would not realize that.

“We have bolts of fabric that I’m sure you will love,” was the response he got before the shopkeeper, who introduced himself as Mister Graysen, sent one of the assistants to the back room. Then he offered them all refreshments and Keith, to Kuro’s gratitude, requested milk tea before disappearing into a dressing room with another assistant.

Some time afterward found Kuro sitting on a couch between Lance and Keith drinking hot black tea sweetened with whole milk. Lance was looking over an array of blue garters in a display box with a flocked lining. Mister Graysen said it was traditional to throw one of those frilly underthings at the groom’s men, which seemed like asking for trouble to Kuro, but Lance did not appear to be concerned about this. Keith was being fitted for the sort of long leather shoes that Kuro had noticed Itoko and Aniue wore a lot, because apparently Keith was going to be dressed up like an alpha at this wedding. Kuro found these wedding customs somewhat baffling, so he tuned out those activities to focus on his self-appointed task.

He had first been brought a catalog to review, and now he was looking at the bolts of fabric he had asked to see and touch. There was one that the shop assistants called damask which he liked because it was very thick, and it was reversible. One side was a light-eating shade of iron blue with spiraling vines of silvered red, the other muted red with spiraling vines of glossy blue. It wasn’t black, but it was dark enough on one side to suit their purpose, and if he got at least six meters of it then he could use some for the susohiki and have enough left over to actually make an obi for Lance. It would not be as nice as one Hahaue could make, but it would be something that Kuro could give that perhaps nobody else had thought of yet.

“I like this one,” Lance decided, choosing a stretchy band appliquéd with light blue lacy leaves. “I can wear it just for throwing, and the lace pattern reminds me of the shoes.” He gazed off at something that could only be seen in his imagination. “Damn, I should’ve gotten those shoes.”

“We can find you suitable shoes here, serah,” Mister Graysen reminded him.

“I’d better check with my sister before I do that,” Lance said, taking out his phone. “For all I know my mother wants me to wear glass slippers.”

That sounded extremely impractical to Kuro, even for a wedding.

Lance snapped a picture of the garter he wanted and emailed it to someone. Moments later he got a reply. Kuro read over his shoulder.

> **From** : Sesuda@......com  
>  **To** : LMC@......com  
>  **Subject** : check this  
> Get it Lancito, it matches your shoes.

“Yes!” Lance struck a guts pose before sending a quick reply in a language with which Kuro was unfamiliar.

> **From** : Sesuda@......com  
>  **To** : LMC@......com  
>  **Subject** : re: check this  
> Save those besos for Marco he earned them. Omnia wants to know what color your honor attendant is wearing. Send pic if you can.

Lance was composing an email that it was red just as one of the shop assistants, Plaxum, came out of the back with three suits in her upraised hands. Lance snapped a picture that made Plaxum stop and blink, but she recovered quickly.

“Keith, I have your final selections ready for try-on!”

The suits had been pinned using Keith’s measurements to give him a better idea of what the final fit would be like. Mister Graysen had explained during Keith’s first try-on session that ordinarily they’d pare down to one suit at the client’s leisure and then proceed through several adjustment fittings, but since they were pressed for time they were taking this shortcut and would do final alterations on whichever suit Keith decided on. He followed Plaxum back to the dressing rooms to make that last selection.

“Have you chosen your favorite, serah?” Mister Graysen turned his attention once again to Kuro. “If you have any more questions about these fabrics, I’d be more than happy to answer them for you.”

“I would like to get six meters of this one.” Kuro set his fingertips on the damask. He was sure of his choice.

“Only six meters?” Mister Graysen sounded surprised. “I was prepared to sell you the whole bolt.” Then he quoted a price that Kuro wasn’t sure he was converting in his head correctly.

“That’s a good price for that much heavy silk,” Lance remarked. “Kuro if you want it, you should get it.”

Kuro did want it. With the whole bolt he could make obis for Lance and Keith both, and still have enough left over for the susohiki! He might even have enough left over to make a less formal obi for himself. But first he needed some help.

“Pardon me,” he said, “I must communicate with Itoko.”

Mister Graysen graciously assured him that there was no rush, so Kuro took out his own phone. It was a simple flip phone with a good luck charm, which Hahaue still insisted was appropriate for his age, even after Kuro had noticed on the day they’d been to the spa that children even younger than himself were carrying iPhones like Hahaue’s. But that worked in his favor today, because his flip phone was great for texting in Hiragana and that meant neither Lance nor Keith would be able to overhear the conversation he was about to have.

Kuro could only have direct access to the money he’d inherited with supervision. He had a silver credit card issued in his name by Chichiue’s bank, which he had been given to use primarily for emergencies. It had restrictions on how much he could spend per transaction and per day, and the bolt of damask, as good of a deal as Kuro believed it to be, was over the transaction limit. Hahaue, being an omega, was not permitted to be the sole voice of discretion over Kuro’s spending account. Technically the ultimate authority on that was Aniue, though he had never before bothered to contest any decision Hahaue made in matters regarding Kuro. 

However, Itoko also had discretionary privileges provided for by Chichiue’s will. With his recent interest in Kuro’s future, perhaps he would be sympathetic to his purpose. Maybe Kuro wouldn’t mention the scheme for justice, though. One could never predict how elders would react to such things, even when there was just cause. Kuro’s fingers rapidly moved over the keypad as he composed a text.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You’re in luck.” Garrett, or ‘Hunk’ as he said he preferred to be called, was dressed for a casual day and smelled like he’d just returned from a temple visit. He pulled a brochure out of one of his desk drawers and passed it across his desk for Shiro to look over. Shinji, who was sitting beside him, read over Shiro’s shoulder.

“The Royal Suite is available and the rate is about as good as it ever gets.” Hunk smiled wistfully. “Keith and I had our eye on it before our families got a hold of our wedding and embiggened it beyond the capacity for the Royal Suite to handle. It’s a great space for the kind of intimate wedding you asked about, though. It’s not an overnight suite, it’s all communal space. It’s got a living room, a library, an entertainment room and a dining room big enough to host a rehearsal dinner or a small formal reception. There’s a grand foyer which would make a lovely aisle if the weather turns bad, but if it doesn’t rain I’d recommend the 2500 square foot terrace for the ceremony because of the extra seating space and that great view.”

Shiro gargled out a laugh that made Shinji wince in sympathy.

“What floor did you say the Royal Suite was on again?” Shiro asked.

“The eighth floor,” Hunk replied, seemingly oblivious to Shiro’s fear of heights. “It’s got the best view of the Hollywood Hills of any function space in the hotel.”

It would seem that was the magic pass phrase. “The Hollywood Hills, you say?” Something about that made Shiro brighten up like a child getting his first New Year’s money. “What other amenities could we get with that space, and how soon can we have access to it?”

“I can initiate a twenty-four hour hold on the space starting at midnight tonight. I can also get you set up on a group rate for your guests and any members of your wedding party who are flying in.” Hunk shuffled paperwork around on his desk to get their contract started. “We have A/V specialists on our team who can set up whatever lighting you need on the terrace and whip something up for you if you want recorded music, but um. I happen to know two world class musicians who would gladly perform live, if they can get here with their instruments in time.”

Shinji could see plainly that Hunk’s suggestion was not a casual one.

“You mean Allura and Shay, right?” Shiro looked hopeful. “Do you really think they’d agree to do it?”

“I know they would.” Hunk’s face was a picture of earnest sobriety. “It’s just a matter of transportation. Flying with a pedal harp is a unique challenge.”

Finally there was a part of this conversation where Shinji could step in effectively as the best man. “I can assist there,” he said. “Getting musicians to venues on time is what you might call my bread and butter.”

Shiro smiled gratefully at both of them. “It would mean a lot.”

“Then consider it done.”

“I’ll get all the details you need to make that happen,” Hunk sighed in evident relief. “As for the reception, we can handle the drinks but it’s unfortunately too late to set up a whole custom menu with our kitchens. However, there are some excellent restaurants in the area who can deliver party-size portions of their signature dishes on short notice, and if you select from several you could pull together a lovely buffet or family style menu.”

As Hunk held forth about open bars and nearby catering options, Shinji’s phone jingled the ringtone that let him know Kuro was texting him. Shinji begged the other men’s pardon and wasn’t surprised when they barely noticed, so deep into talk were they about how Hunk’s mother was a highly skilled baker who could be persuaded to take a last minute commission for a cake so long as they didn’t mind it being rustic (whatever that meant in regards to cakes). Shinji opened the text and smiled. Kuro was becoming more forthright, yet still so thoughtful in his intentions. Shinji wholeheartedly approved, and in that spirit he also approved the transaction.


	10. Modern Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Shiro's wedding begins to take shape. The awkward romance tag begins to justify its existence. More characters arrive on the scene, and a couple of significant outfits are tried on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the views, kudos and comments! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, SinisterChaos, Inoshi, Yo_buddy, maximumride36 and luminiferousaether! More Keith, Lance and Kuro hangouts coming right up! I had the same feeling while I was looking up everything Shiro would need to pull this off, but then I realized that he was actually spending less overall than he would have if he'd planned a more formal society wedding over a longer period of time. He's just spending it in a much shorter time frame, and probably overspending on the flowers because last minute flower orders are really expensive, but overall the time crunch is saving him from being talked into more elaborate plans because there's just no time for them.
> 
> I watched a lot of wedding reality TV, you guys. Weddings are some wild times.

  
“Have you lost what little was left of your mind?” Adam sat back on his cabriole-legged loveseat, arms folded in a posture which he hoped communicated his disdain for the half-baked plot which had just been put before him.

Curtis leaned forward out of the loveseat across from Adam’s in the front parlor. This was his first visit ever to the Gramercy townhouse which had been in Adam’s family for three generations. His mother had optimistically set them up with some rainbow cookies and coffee in one of her nicer copper-clad coffee service sets. He had tried to explain to her that Curtis was not a suitor while helping her carry out the tray, but she had only replied cryptically, “The dog knows,” and then hustled off to run interference on Adam’s beta and alpha brothers.

For some mystifying reason Laika, a dog of a breed notorious for preferring to bond with only one family, had decided that she liked Curtis. The Chow Chow now lay as a big fat traitorous heap of steel-grey fur on Curtis’s feet so that he could scratch between her ears without troubling himself to reach over the coffee table.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Curtis said as he petted the dog.

“Ya think?”

“But what if he’s in over his head?” Curtis barreled on heedlessly. “We should go to his hotel and see him in person. Maybe we can talk some sense into him.”

Curtis sounded awfully rational for a guy who admitted he’d used photo-editing software to blow up clues on the gossip blog photo in order to extrapolate Shiro’s most likely destination and then called around to five star hotels until he’d found him.

“I have never met a man who knew his own mind more immovably than Shiro.” Adam shook his head. “Nobody talks sense into him, he decides what he wants and then he goes ahead and does it.”

“You make it sound like I don’t know him at all.” Curtis leaned his long forearms on his long thighs to hang his finely-shaped head down on his long neck. The man was built like a fashion illustrator’s wet dream, and could come across as just as much of a cipher, until he said something that proved there were distinct thoughts in his head. Idiosyncratically distinct thoughts to the point of possibly being cuckoo bananas, but they did exist.

“How did you meet Shiro?” Adam was honestly curious. Out of all the things Curtis had advertently or inadvertently shared about himself over the course of their acquaintanceship, that one tidbit had never come up. As long as he was invading Adam’s free time, he might as well satisfy his inquiring mind.

“We’re fraternity brothers,” Curtis said.

“Didn’t you get your degree from Cooper Union?” Adam was sure that had come up at some point, and he knew for a fact that Shiro had gotten his MBA at NYU.

“We met at a regional convention.” Curtis looked offended in a way that suggested he had answered this exact question before and didn’t like it then either. “Coming from different chapters doesn’t lessen the bonds of brotherhood that exist between us.”

“Your actions don’t imply brotherly feelings.” When Curtis’s eyes narrowed, Adam added, “I’m just saying.”

“It’s complicated.” Curtis hunched over his coffee. “I can’t expect you to understand the voyage of discovery that is college life, or the lasting relationships that can come out of– ”

“Excuse you?” Adam felt his blood riling up as he thunked down his coffee cup, his mother’s wonderful brew spilling over the lip. “Just because I didn’t join a Greek organization doesn’t mean I don’t understand college life!”

“Oh?” Curtis made a show of being all calm beta sipping coffee. “Where did you matriculate from?”

“Vassar.” Four years, multiple academic achievements, all leading to this moment of being betasplained to in his mother’s parlor.

Curtis at least had the grace to look contrite. “That’s a good school.”

“No shit.” He knew Curtis had been expecting him to name some finishing school in a too-rich-for-thy-blood resort town, which was just irritating beyond belief.

“What did you major in?”

“Art History.”

Curtis’s cute stupid face brightened like a blooming calendula. “Me too!”

“I _know_.”

“You know, I’ve always respected you as a contender for Shiro’s attention.”

That... was hard to argue against, since Curtis had always treated Adam like a credible threat to his suit. His suit so woebegone that Shiro probably still didn’t know he’d been pursued.

“This other omega though.” Curtis shook his head. “He seemed so unworldly. And Shiro’s so sophisticated, I just don’t get it.”

“It’s not really ours to get,” Adam pointed out, and with the benefit of hindsight he wasn’t all that sorry about it. 

Seriously, if he never spoke to Shiro’s stepmother again ever in his life, that would be great. He’d given Shiro one chance to show him that he was willing to tolerate uncomfortable relations in kind by inviting him to the wedding of his most pretentious cousin. If Shiro had stood by him at Tabor’s royal birthday themed wedding, Adam would have given serious consideration to putting up with a terrifying mother-in-law. Just as long as they didn’t ever live on the same continent. But Shiro had borked up that test so thoroughly that Adam had done something he never thought he’d do: break up with somebody over the phone.

“You should count your blessings,” Adam said as he helped himself to a rainbow cookie. “Whenever you marry somebody you marry their family too, and Shiro comes complete with the hell-on-wheels mother-in-law package.”

“Shiro is distant from his family,” Curtis replied. “He’s alone in the world, that’s why we relate to each other so well.”

Curiouser and curiouser. Adam was learning more about how Curtis ticked in an hour alone with him than he’d learned in all the months of their previous interactions with other parties present.

“Shiro isn’t completely alone in the world. He has a close relationship with the family who works for him.” It was one of the things about Shiro that had initially impressed Adam. “I think his distance from his father’s second family is more on his part than theirs these days. He’s technically the head of that family now, which means they’re going to be trying to seek favor from him or gain leverage on him whenever and wherever they can.”

“All the more reason he needs help!” Curtis sat up straight, hand dropping from the Chow’s giant fluffy head. Laika looked up morosely at the interruption to her dose of pampering. “That silly little omega he has now would have no idea how to handle himself in a situation like that!”

“And you would?” Adam felt his blood pressure building back up again. Presumptuous beta. “Are you assuming this guy is silly just because he’s an omega?”

“No, I...” Curtis seemed to realize he’d stepped in it. “I told you, I met the guy, he wasn’t... he was... well, he acted like...”

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” Adam was fuming. “You overlooked him because he was an omega and just went straight up Shiro’s ass like you usually do– ”

“I do not go up Shiro’s ass!” Curtis leveled his shoulders in high dudgeon. “And I didn’t overlook him, I just... he wasn’t you, so he didn’t seem all that intimidating.”

Well, now. That was just... “You think I’m intimidating?”

“Dauntingly so.”

Into the stunned silence which ensued from that confession arrived Adam’s mother with a silver key on a tasseled chain. “It’s a lovely day,” she said. “Why don’t you two go outside and enjoy the park? It would be a shame to waste the nice weather.” She waved the tassel at Adam’s eye level until he snatched it from her hands.

“I’ve never been invited inside Gramercy Park before,” Curtis said with an expression like a child at the gates of an amusement park.

“Now you can say that you have.” Adam stood. Laika whined. “Sorry girl, no doggos allowed past the park gates, you know that.” Laika grumbled and flopped back down. 

Served her right for forgetting who filled her supper dish. 

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“So that’s the plan.”

Keith, Lance and Kuro sat at an outdoor table under a red umbrella noshing on a late lunch of grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, served artfully with arugula as a garnish and accompanied by soup served in teacups. Very precious.

“Let me get this straight.” Lance nibbled on an arugula leaf. It was probably only there to look pretty and not meant to be eaten, but he liked arugula and it was on his plate so he was gonna eat it. “You need me to go in there ahead of time and get the lay of the land?”

“Just a little while before he closes up shop,” Keith confirmed. “We need to know if he has any apprentices or part-timers who might be walking out with him, and how crowded and well-lit it is out there so we can work out the best place to surprise him. It can’t be me, ‘cause he’d know something was up, and it can’t be Kuro, because his scent is pretty memorable if you get close enough to smell him and I don’t want him that close until we’re ready to set it off.” Keith smiled charmingly. “And if you can rile him up a little first it’d be even better. One last epic prank before you have to be all boring and married, what do you say?”

“My marriage won’t be boring if I have anything to say about it, but I still want in.” It would be a lot harder to pull off a caper of this scope with Haruka always up in his business, and anyway Lance wanted to help. There was just one concern that needed addressing. “I think we should hedge our bets.”

Keith dipped a sandwich point in his soup, frowning. “Hedge them how?”

“You said that you don’t know for sure if this guy is into male omegas,” Lance pointed out. His outrageous flirt routine would fall flat if that was the case. “I can wing it and be an annoying ditz if that’s what it takes to get him off his game, but if we take my sister along I think our chances of being really distracting are even better.” Nobody knew how to confuse the hell out of a mark better than Rachel.

“You think she’ll be cool with what we’re doing?”

“Yep.” Lance nodded. “Plus if we bring her along my mother won’t make a fuss about it.”

His mother was en route with a mystery frock and if he knew her at all, she’d want him to try it on for her at least once before he went to bed, but if he pressed for a hen night with Rachel as chaperone, she’d give in. She’d never caught on to the fact that Rachel could be almost as bad as he was when mischief was afoot. With Rachel it was more about the challenge of a prank in progress than the payoff, but that just meant that she’d be all over the task of diverting Cousin Bob’s attention, while Lance was free to pay more attention to the logistics Keith wanted.

“Isn’t that Ani?” Kuro had turned in his seat to peer down over the railing at the sidewalk below.

Lance looked over his shoulder to follow Kuro’s gaze and sure enough, there went a singularly silver head of hair and set of broad shoulders, disappearing inside the Tiffany’s store.

“He’s getting the rings.” Lance felt a flutter in his stomach, like the times when Veronica let him take the kiteboard out on the water to entice tourists to sign up for her class because when they saw an omega leaping around out there on the water they'd feel confident that they could do it too.

This was really happening. Tomorrow he was getting married.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Less than an hour away from landing and they were just now finalizing their pickup order for the bridal shop in Los Angeles. Omnia had suggested it would be a nice touch if the mother of the bride wore the same color as the honor attendant, and luckily Vibiana looked good in red. The only champagne-colored veil the bridal shop sold was a fingertip veil that was not really a mantilla but ‘inspired by’ according to the designer. This was as close to Vibiana’s ideal as she judged that she was likely to find within the time remaining. Tradition did not demand that Lance should wear a veil, but if he had been his usual bold self and already taken the bite then he would need one. 

Vibiana did not express this concern to Omnia, and Omnia for her part did not ask. Browsing with the tablet between them, they had also found nice outfits for the rest of the family to wear when they arrived. It was at this point where they’d hit another impasse while choosing appropriate outfits for Sylvio and Nadia.

Omnia and Vibiana were seatmates in the business class cabin of their flight. Across the aisle, Rachel had donned the headphones to watch an in-flight movie while Flaco had reclined his lie-flat seat to catch a nap. Directly in front of them, Marco was also flat on his back snoozing away, while Daniel kept making moon eyes over his shoulder in Rachel’s direction. Vibiana had a notion that Omnia had arranged the seating to better keep an eye on him, and while she admired her auguring abilities more with every hour spent in her company, her vision might be leading her down the primrose path this time.

“Do you really think it is a good idea to put the children in the wedding?” 

Vibiana had seen children being given active roles in the wedding party many times during beachside destination weddings held at the resort in Varadero, and the chance for unpredictable incidents went up exponentially with their presence. She’d seen little girl meltdowns when they realized the flower petals weren’t theirs to keep. Little boys interpreting ‘take this to the groom’ as permission to throw the ring pillow at the groom like a curve ball. Children stopping the ceremony to announce their desire for cake, their opinions of other members of the wedding party, or the state of their bowels. One child even lost the rings in the surf and Luis had to wade waist-deep with a metal detector to recover them.

“If they’re as active as you described them to be, the best thing to do would be to give them a job to focus their energy rather than to expect them to stay still and quiet in a chair,” Omnia insisted. “They’re both the perfect age for it, too.”

“You haven’t led me astray yet.” Vibiana decided to put her trust in the indomitable secretary. “Let’s just make certain to choose a ring holder that Sylvio won’t be tempted to throw.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Are you sure you’re not biting off more than you can chew?” Jin toted in the extra supplies Alana had asked him to bring from the storage room and deposited them on the kitchen island.

“Are you kidding?” Alana immediately began sorting through the extra cake pans. She made layered sheet cakes often, but it had been a while since she’d made a round tiered one. “This is going to be a– ”

“Please don’t say cakewalk.”

“I was gonna say practice run.” She found the pans she wanted, and the cake leveler. She usually just used a palette knife, but with this being her first stacked cake in ages she didn’t want to freehand it. “Besides, the money I make on this commission is gonna pay for ingredients I need to make Hunk’s cake.”

Jin shook his head, but he was smiling. “Does Hunk know you’re planning to make him a wedding cake that makes this one look like a cupcake?”

“He shouldn’t be surprised.” Alana turned in the process of taking a packet of boba straws out of the pantry. “Don’t look at me like that ipo, I’m not making Hunk’s wedding cake all by myself. Krolia is going to come over and help me with that one.”

“Okay.” Jin looked like he was going to hold his peace for the moment. “Need anything else? Cake stencils? Pipettes? Want me to make a Costco run for a giant bottle of spirits and see how much of it we can put in ourselves before we add any to the cake batter?”

“Why don’t you get us a couple beers out of the fridge and keep me company?” Alana hid her smile in the task of attaching the balloon whisk to her stand mixer. “Smartass.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Pidge circled back around the loop to the arrivals lane, tapping the Honda’s brake pedal as she wove her little hatchback between airport shuttles and jockeying rideshare vehicles. She scanned the sliding glass doors leading into the terminal as they opened to discharge tired travelers onto the curb. She couldn’t stop, or one of the traffic cops hanging out on the concrete median would be only too happy to give her a ticket, so she coasted as slowly as she felt she could get away with. Finally, like Persephone returning topside after a six month dirt nap, Matt’s aureate hair appeared under the shade of the terminal’s canopy. Pidge quickly pulled up to the last itty bit of curb available, congratulating her high school self for being practical enough to opt for a subcompact car.

Matt spotted her and pushed his rented luggage carrier before him as he trudged over. Not even the sunglasses he had on could hide his grumpy expression. He was wearing one of those utility jumpsuits that had recently become very fashionable, in an olive green that would’ve looked blah on most other people but it looked great on him (Rosso genetic contribution ftw). He must have been dressed for the party when Mom showed up to wreak her unique form of havoc.

Pidge threw the car into park, popped open the hatch and jumped out to help Matt quickly load his luggage into the cargo space. She noticed his scent had gone thin and watery. Probably jet lag. When they got back into the vehicle, Matt helped himself to the passenger seat controls, folding it into refresh mode so that Pidge could be treated to the sight of his Chelsea boots kicked up on her passenger seat for the entire ride home.

“Sorry,” Matt said, his sandpapery voice coming from over Pidge’s shoulder as she pulled away from the curb. “I’m just so tired. It’s not that easy to sleep on a plane.”

Pidge frowned. It was notoriously difficult for omegas to sleep in conditions where they were surrounded by strange alphas with nobody to watch their six. It was down to stress hormones or some shit; she wasn’t the biologist in the family. She wished she’d thought of that before, but it probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome for the better. “S’okay.”

“You taking me home?”

“Yeah, with me, duh.” As if she’d cart her brother all the way down to San Pedro when it was perfectly legal for her to take him home with her. “You can sleep in my room, I’ve got a fold-out in my office that I can use. Just be prepared for doggie kisses.” 

Her apartment had been furnished by a company that specialized in corporate housing, courtesy of her boss, but she’d also brought in a few items from her bedroom at home when she’d relocated from San Francisco. Most of those items were in her loft office, including her trusty old fold-out sleeper chair.

“You got anything to wear to this wedding?” Pidge asked as she looked for openings to scoot around the gridlock of vehicles trying to leave the airport. 

“I’ve got clothes.” Matt waved a hand airily in a gesture that meant ‘don’t worry about it’ which he’d picked up from Dad. “I packed all sorts of things for Dining-Outs that I won’t be going to now, I’m sure one of those outfits is nice enough for a daytime wedding. Do we have to shop for a wedding gift? I might just give you money and make you go in the store, I’m so tired.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Mattikins, I’ve got my own money,” Pidge snorted. “And Shiro doesn’t even have a registry, that’s how shotgun this wedding is.”

That startled a laugh out of Matt. “You don’t think...?”

“That he knocked somebody up?” Pidge saw a tiny opening to get across several lanes of slow moving traffic and shot the car through it, ignoring the chorus of honks which that action produced. “Not unless he’s stopped guarding his junk from spunk ninjas.”

“I wish I’d never told you that story,” Matt groaned. “Not because I think you’ll repeat it, but because I never wanted to hear the phrase ‘spunk ninjas’ escape from your mouth.”

Pidge grinned, unrepentant. She’d take her news about Shiro wherever she could get it until she was satisfied that the man was ready to stop acting so squirelly. “There’s a rumor going around that Shiro brokered a mail order bride, but I’ve got better intelligence who swears up and down it’s a case of highway robbery. To hear James tell it, Shiro stole the cutie right out from under his nose.”

“Competition makes some alphas act ridiculous, even when the competition is only in their imaginations.” Matt prudently decided to buckle into the backseat where his rear was technically residing. “Word to the wise, sorella: most omegas are not impressed by overzealous posturing.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Pidge reminded him. She wasn’t impressed by overzealous anything and couldn’t imagine herself puffing up in a dominance display for any reason. Off-the-cuff comments were more her style when she had a point she wanted to get across, and she’d rather outsmart the competition than overpower them.

“Right, forgot I was talking to the original zing slinger.” Matt sounded amused, which was a welcome improvement over scratchy and peevish. “Since there’s no registry, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you’re thinking gag gift, we are on the same wavelength, fratello.”

“Fantastico.”

Matt reached a hand forward and Pidge reached a hand back to slap a low five.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shay warmed her hands on her to-go cup of golden latte and watched her alpha down an iced blended like it was water. Allura never got brain freeze, it was incredible. But somehow, she always managed to get a whipped cream mustache, even when she left the dome lid on (which she usually didn’t). They were seated at an outdoor table at the coffee shop on the bottom floor of their apartment building in SoMa with their instruments beside them, not an unusual circumstance on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. What was unusual were the garment bags and duffels piled at their feet.

Allura finally set her cup down and smiled foamily at her omega. Shay grinned.

“Well hullo Coran, I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few more hours yet, how have you been?”

“What?” Allura picked up a napkin and dabbed at her mouth. “Did I do it again?”

Shay laughed and added another napkin to the task of cleaning up her beautiful face. They were still laughing about it when the transit wagon with the chauffeur company’s logo on its side pulled up the curb. The driver, a beta with a lion’s mane beard, smiled at their antics and called out, “Afternoon ladies. I believe you’re my fare?”

“If you’re taking us to San Francisco International Airport to meet a chartered flight, yes we are,” Allura replied. 

Shay had never met another alpha so capable of infusing both cheer and assertion in equal measure into her voice. It had been one of the first things about Allura to draw Shay’s attention. She’d met plenty of beautiful women at her public high school, but Allura’s beauty had always seemed secondary to her balanced strength of character, at least in Shay’s eyes.

The driver, who introduced himself as Ozar, answered in the affirmative and got out to help them load their luggage into the back of the vehicle. Mister Ise had been very kind and very thorough in sending for a driver so that they wouldn’t have to leave their own well-loved harpmobile to the vagaries of airport parking.

Luggage and instruments safely secured, Shay and Allura hopped in through the side door and buckled into the second row passenger seats. Shay felt a thrill of excitement run through her. Her best friend was getting married and she and Allura finally had a chance to repay her benefactor. They’d even get to spend some overdue vacation time with their families. What a way to kick off the week!

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
They had gotten their rental, an SUV big enough to fit all six of them. They had gotten the bridal shop order crammed into the cargo space on top of all of their luggage (except for the precious garment bag carrying Lancito’s frock, which dangled safely from the coat hook over Vibiana’s window). They had even gotten Daniel to sit in the front passenger seat next to Omnia through some eye language that only Omnia and Daniel knew. Now they get to the only tobacco shop serving the area that was still open on a Sunday and find out the owner can’t spare anyone to roll a couple dozen cigars on the wedding day.

“I’m sorry señora.” The tobacconist, an alpha named Zandra, did look mildly regretful. “We’re booked solid. I called all of my guys while you were on your way over, even the ones on vacation time, but nobody’s free for that time slot. I can sell you a box of twenty-five pre-rolled cigars if you like. Nice quality stogies.”

They would almost certainly be machine-rolled if the owner had that many ready to go in a box on a day when all of her Torcedors were busy doing other things. Machine-rolled cigars at her baby’s wedding. Vibiana had just known things were going too well, and when things were going too well it was like a laughing gull sending its best wishes to humans on the shore: best to be wearing a hat.

“Wait!” Marco, who had been standing to the rear of the company of travelers, now pushed forward with a cell phone upraised in his hand. “Do you have supplies that we can use to roll them ourselves? I’ve got Luis on the phone, he says he’ll do it!”

_“¡Lo haré!”_ came out of the phone, along with excited voices in the background that let Vibiana know that the children had just been informed they would be in the wedding. She did not envy her daughters-in-law trying to get them to go to sleep at nightfall.

“I sell all of the accessories here,” Zandra said, “but for the wrappers and fillers, I would need to know what style of cigars you want to make.”

_“We should make lanceros!”_ Luis said, and Vibiana laughed, because that was perfect.

“I hope you know how to bunch if you want to make that size,” Zandra warned.

“Mi hijo knows what he’s doing,” Vibiana told her. 

Luis saved the day from long distance. Though they gave her grey hairs, Vibiana knew that she had been blessed with her children.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“One pepperoni, one cheese, one vegan and one anchovy.” 

Surely that covered the bases of what everyone might like. Shiro would have asked first but they were all flung to the far corners of the hotel busy on projects necessitated by his own actions and meant to benefit him; meanwhile about eight more would be joining them very shortly and they’d no doubt be hungry. Omnia had suggested a low-key rehearsal dinner in the penthouse dining room but then had gotten caught up in some drama over the florist’s order and had to go, leaving the dinner plans for Shiro to sort out. Put him on the spot for a high stakes dinner with an adversary and he could handle it with savoir faire. Put him in charge of a large group family meal and he panic-dialed, but everybody liked pizza, right?

_“Gotcher four extra-large, one pep, one cheese, one veg, one anchovy, you get free garlic knots with that. You want any drinks? We got the 2 liters.”_

Why not? “Give me two of them.”

_“Want the list of flavors?”_

“Surprise me.”

_“You got it. We’ll have it to you within forty-five minutes.”_

“Excellent.” That sounded just fast enough to prevent him from ruminating over the order long enough to panic-dial another restaurant.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Much to Allura’s surprise, it had not been a shuttle driver awaiting them on the tarmac but Mister Ise himself. He’d brought a rented SUV with the third row seats already folded down and a blanket laid over them to ease sliding Shay’s wrapped pedal harp into the cargo space. Their luggage went into the second row passenger seat next to Shay’s, and Allura’s violin case fit snugly on the floorboard between those two seats. Allura jumped into the front passenger seat after ensuring the comfort of her omega. Mister Ise watched them with a wistful smile on his face. 

“Thank you for picking us up,” Allura said as she buckled her seatbelt.

“It is I who must thank you,” Ise replied as he guided the large vehicle away from the airport. “Your assistance will contribute greatly to the happiness of my cousin and I am happy to assist you in return.”

“Will we have time to rehearse?” Allura was glad for this opportunity but it was a bit nerve-wracking not knowing what sort of acoustics they were going to be dealing with. “Hunk said that he thought selections from Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty would be appropriate and we’re both very familiar with the work, but it would certainly help our performance if we could have a run-through in the venue first.”

“We will be granted access to the space at midnight,” Ise confirmed. “In the meantime, we will get you checked into your hotel room and then I believe Shiro is organizing a rehearsal dinner in his suite to which you are invited.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose.” 

“You will not be imposing, I assure you. Hunk and his lovely bride will be in attendance as well. You will be among friends.”

Allura looked in the rear-view mirror at Shay and saw her own expression reflected in her omega’s amber eyes, and knew they were having the same thought: the two of them had packed exactly two formal outfits, and both were earmarked for the weddings.

“Do not be concerned about your attire,” Ise said without turning his attention away from the traffic in front of him. 

Had their scents alerted him to their consternation? They must have done.

“I overheard Shiro on the telephone as I was leaving, and it seems he has decided to hold the rehearsal dinner as a pizza party.” Ise smiled at some private amusement. “He is the most steady and self-possessed individual I’ve ever met in professional matters, but set upon him a familial predicament and he can become quite unpredictable. As his best man it is my job to make sure that his wedding survives any scrapes that may present themselves.” His smile waned just a bit, like the moon drifting behind a cloud. “That is why I regret I will not be joining you for the rehearsal dinner. I do enjoy pizza very much, but there is an urgent matter which requires my attention, and it is something I feel that I must deal with myself.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Seems like a shame to hide such a pretty design,” Lance said as he finished his seam with a back stitch. They had decided to roll a long strip of the damask into a cord with the predominantly iron blue side facing out, and used that cord to fill the batten pocket before sealing it up.

“It would be seen if we didn’t,” Kuro said gravely, but he was secretly pleased that Lance thought it was pretty. “It’s very shiny in places.”

“Try it on,” Keith suggested. They were all sitting together on Lance’s bed, which was still so neatly made that one might almost think he hadn’t slept in it the previous night.

“Okay.” 

Kuro hopped off the bed to fold the tablecloth susohiki skirt around himself. Since it was not a sleeved garment, he would have to secure it around his waist with a koshi-himo, one of which he had added to their justice kit out of his own packed clothing. He rolled the top hem until the skirt was the length he wanted, and then tied the muslin strip around his waist. The skirt trailed around his feet like an upside-down black tulip. Perfect.

“That looks great!” Keith got out of the bed to walk a circuit around Kuro. “Do you think we’ll need to hide the string belt, though?”

“Maybe,” Kuro admitted. “I think the nightgown will hide it, but if not I can fold the top of the skirt over so that the koshi-himo is covered.”

“Let’s check.”

So Kuro put on the nightgown over the tablecloth skirt.

“Whoa.” Lance sat up straight on the bed with wide eyes.

“I know, right?” Keith looked thrilled. “He looks like he walked right out of a woodblock print.”

Kuro grinned. “Wait until you see me with the makeup on.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Open up Lancito, I have your frock and you need to try it on, ahora!”

“That’s my mom,” Lance said. “Quick, Kuro you can hide in the bathroom long enough to take off the doohickey– ”

“It’s pronounced susohiki.”

“Lance!”

“She’s like, five seconds away from saying my full name.” Lance picked up the red and white bag that Keith had been using to store the justice kit and gingerly maneuvered Kuro toward the bathroom. “Make sure you flush before you come out, even if you don’t have to go.”

“Nani?”

“Lance Anto– ”

“I’m coming!”

Kuro found himself staring at a closed bathroom door which muffled the voices that ensued from outside, speaking a language which was unfamiliar to him. He shuffled in a half-circle and caught his image in the mirror over the single basin sink, which gave him quite a start. Between the costume and the dishevelment of his hair created by squirming into the nightgown, he looked like the Heron Maiden lamenting forsaken love. Once he got over the momentary fright, this gave him an idea.

Kuro needed a story to guide his performance, but he didn’t know anything about the story that Keith had mentioned during their first discussion of the scheme for justice. He wasn’t sure if he’d want to use that story even if he did, since he had no idea where the shrine was to pay tribute beforehand. The last thing he needed was for an angry Nikkei ghost to follow him home because he failed to provide proper tribute before impersonating them, but he could be the Heron Maiden. Heron Maiden was a creature of stories, and alphas were as wolves on the hunt, as Hahaue told him all the time. What were the odds that this Cousin Bob had left a broken heart behind him along his life’s path?

High enough odds to make Heron Maiden a good idea upon which to model Kuro’s performance. He threw himself a wink in the mirror as he had seen Lance do before they’d left earlier, and took off his costume. He carefully folded it and put it back into the bag before setting his hair back to rights. Then he depressed the lever to flush the toilet (such old-fashioned fixtures in this place) and stepped out of the bathroom.

Standing in the bedroom between Lance and Keith was a cute beta lady who was shaped like a dumpling and smelled like blooming tea. She had the same eyebrows and the same chin as Lance and came up to about his ear. This had to be his mother.

“Mamá, this is Kuro, he’s going to be my brother-in-law. Kuro, this is my mom.”

“Konnichiwa.” Kuro bowed.

“¡Precioso!” Lance’s mother curtsied.

Keith looked like he really wanted to say something and was refraining by the skin of his teeth. Or his lip, because he was biting it.

“My name is Vibiana.” Lance’s mother reached out both of her hands. 

Kuro remembered what Keith had said about shaking them, so he cautiously grasped the offered hands and gave them a little shake. Now both Keith and Lance looked like they were trying not to say something, but thankfully Vibiana just smiled up at him.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Kuro.”

“I am pleased to meet you as well, Vibiana-san.”

Kuro’s phone warbled out a MIDI rendition of “Sakura Sakura.” 

“That might be Haha.” Kuro would not let his chin wobble in discouragement. If Hahaue made him take a bath and go to bed, then he would just sneak out later. He knew how to do that now. “I must answer it. I hope you will pardon me.”

The others assured him that of course they would, so Kuro bowed again and left the bedroom, taking the ringing phone out of his pocket as he did so. Hahaue’s cell phone number appeared in the caller ID. Kuro stepped out of the hallway into the parlor and gathered that he was, for the moment, alone.

“Moshi moshi.”

_｢Where are you?｣_

｢Okaa-san, I am with Kogane-san.｣

_｢Come back to the hotel room. We must be well-rested for whatever nonsense your brother intends to surprise us with tomorrow.｣_

｢Yes Okaa-san.｣

The line was disconnected on Hahaue’s end. So, Kuro would have to behave himself for a few hours at least before he could risk sneaking away. He tried to convince himself it was not all bad. Perhaps this would give him some time to work on the obis.

“Kuro-chan.”

Kuro raised his eyes. In the dimly lit living room attached to the parlor sat his cousin Shinji, who smiled and rose from the couch when Kuro acknowledged him. He must have been sitting there since before Kuro entered the room, but Kuro hadn’t noticed due to the lighting and his own distraction.

“Kuro-chan, you may remain with Kogane-san for the rest of the evening if you like.”

“For real?” This had to be a dream. He had fallen asleep in Lance’s room and now he was dreaming.

Shinji chuckled. “Yes for real. I will deal with your mother’s concerns. I want you to have fun tonight. Just remember that your curfew is midnight.”

“Thank you, Itoko-san!”

“You may call me Shinji.”

Kuro’s cheeks felt tight from how big he was smiling. “Thank you, Shinji-san.”

Now they would be able to carry off the scheme for justice without having to evade Hahaue!

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
When looking for a place to hang the garment bag, Lance’s mother had discovered the door onto the terrace behind the grommet curtains, and turned to Lance with a raised eyebrow. No words. Just that eyebrow, while Lance tried to look innocent and Keith burst into laughter.

“Well,” Vibiana said. “While you were trying to elope under everyone’s noses, I made you a wedding frock.”

Keith dropped into the dilettante chair, still giggling, but Lance didn’t take advantage of the prime opportunity for retaliatory noogies. His attention honed in on three words she had spoken.

“You... you made me...?”

“Of course I did, Lancito.” Vibiana stepped forward to embrace her youngest son. “Did you think I wouldn’t? My parents made my dress, and I always intended to make yours. Your sister’s too, should she choose to marry.”

Over Vibiana’s shoulder, Keith lounged in the velvet chair with a half-smile on his face.

“All right.” Vibiana leaned away from the embrace but not before rubbing a wrist gland on Lance’s cheek. “Let’s see this frock on you, I may need to make a few final adjustments.”

Out of the garment bag came a length of silk charmeuse and alençon lace, all in the palest golden shade of champagne. On the hanger, it was revealed to be a short-sleeved frock cut on the bias. The lace overlaying the slip was in a sprig leaf pattern, the leaves closer together on the trunk and growing sparser as the fabric descended to the floor, where it ended in a sweep train.

“Mamá.” Lance’s heart was too full to elucidate his feelings. This frock was more than he would have hoped for had he even made a serious effort to look on his own. 

“Now try it on.” Vibiana looked very pleased by his reaction. “Go in the bathroom if you must, even though I’ve seen everything you’ve got.”

It occurred to Lance suddenly that she actually hadn’t seen everything he got, but if he disrobed in front of her she surely would not fail to notice the temporary claim mark on his thigh. His scent must have been betraying him because his mother suddenly looked suspicious, so he grabbed the frock and hustled into the bathroom.

“Okay Mamá, I’ll be right back!”

“I’ll help!” Keith was through the door behind him in a blink.

“I don’t know if I need help throwing a frock over my head for a try-on,” Lance said.

“You’d be surprised,” Keith replied, so Lance just shrugged and took off his jeans and t-shirt ensemble. He would have told Keith anyway, at some point.

The seamless briefs he had on under the jeans would probably be fine for just a try-on session. They didn’t have any of the body-smoothing features of shapewear, but at least they wouldn’t show pantylines. Also, they did nothing to hide the teeth marks.

“I knew it!” Keith crowed.

“How did you know?” Lance challenged him.

“I suspected when I sniffed you and you smelled more like alpha than a trip from the airport should have been able to make happen,” Keith replied as he helped Lance pull the frock over his head. “Then I got a pretty good whiff of him when he came in to trade gifts, and he smelled so much like you, I was sure.” His face was thoughtful as he helped Lance adjust the frock over his body. “How does it feel? Does it hurt?”

“There’s this rush of hormones hitting your opiate receptors that removes the pain before you can even really feel it,” Lance assured him. “The weird thing is how you can sense his feelings afterward, and he can sense yours. But I don’t regret it.” Lance smoothed the frock over his torso. “Even when what he’s feeling is kinda unpleasant, at least I know, and I can help.”

And after tomorrow, it was going to become even more intense than it already was. The prospect sent a strange thrill through Lance’s body, like that moment at the apex of a kite-surfing jump before gravity could reassert itself.

When Lance and Keith emerged from the bathroom, it was to find that Kuro had rejoined them. He looked up from his conversation with Lance’s mother wearing a big smile.

“Itoko said I can stay with you until midnight!” He took in the frock and his eyes widened appreciatively. “Kirei.”

Lance smiled back at Kuro. “My mamá made it.” The frock was deceptively simple in its design, but Lance knew that his mother had employed all of her considerable skill to making it drape so gracefully on his frame.

Vibiana flushed with pleasure under the praise. “It fits you well mijo, but let’s try it on with the shoes and veil and your necklace just to make sure I haven’t missed something.”

The shoes turned out to be a good enough match to the frock that they would not create a discordant element whenever one of Lance’s feet slipped out from under the sweeping hem. His mother must have been really paying close attention to his tastes during that try-on session at the bridal shop in New York. The necklace’s gold filigree enhanced the subtle buttery-gold tones in the frock and its gems added a splash of jewel tones to break up the unrelieved warm tones in the rest of the raiment. The veil was a surprise, as it was not de rigeur for a male omega to wear one, even in full traditional dress. Keith and Vibiana helped Lance secure it to the back of his head with its attached comb.

“The lace on the edge is so dainty,” Vibiana clucked, making Lance wonder why she had even decided to get it. “And the comb you can’t even see, but it’s alright. It won’t clash with your frock, so that’s good.”

“I have tsumami-zaiku you can borrow that would make the comb stand out more,” Kuro offered. “Their colors are red and gold, so it would look well with your courting necklace.”

“Hey, something borrowed,” Keith said, smacking Lance on a silk-clad shoulder.

“Red is lucky,” Vibiana said, as her critical eye on the veil turned speculative.

“Very lucky,” Kuro agreed. “So is gold.”

“Thank you Kuro,” Lance said, heart warmed by the gesture.

“It’s fine.” Kuro smiled. “This is what family does for each other, isn’t it?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“What is this, then?” Tatsuo stood in the doorway to his bedroom suite in his benibara yukata with a face as cool as a mountain river, but Shinji knew him of old so he knew better.

“It is the evening meal, Tatsuo-san.” Shinji waved Farla past him to take the room service cart out onto the terrace. “Please, join me.”

It seemed he was forever cajoling Tatsuo to join him for sustenance, like an apartment dweller trying to coax a field cat indoors.

Shinji had reunited his musician charges with Hunk at the front desk, upon which Hunk had taken over the duty of seeing them to their room. Before leaving the lobby to check on the occupants of the penthouse suite, Shinji had taken a moment to put in a dinner order with Leifsdottir and to also ask whether he might requisition any of the floral arrangements the hotel would be rotating out that evening. It seemed that Cinda had the night off, which might explain why Izu had armed all of his portable surveillance alarms but was not physically present in the suite. This was even better for Shinji’s purposes. 

Leifsdottir had been very generous in endowing Shinji with everything that was scheduled to be taken out but had yet a few hours left of freshness. Tatsuo preceded Shinji onto the terrace with one chary glance over his shoulder, and stepped into a miniature arbor of delphiniums, snapdragons and gladioli, the slight droop of the blossoms on their stalks making them somehow more beautiful in their ephemeral state. Tatsuo stopped short at the sight. The snapdragons perfumed the air as if hoping to entice one last bumblebee to the scene. In front of them, Farla was laying out the linens and dishware, setting a table for two.

“Come.” Shinji placed an encouraging palm on Tatsuo’s shoulder.

Tatsuo stood stalk still. “Why is there no place setting for Kuro-kun?’

“He is eating pizza with Kogane-san.” That was technically true, or it would be shortly. “Don’t worry, he has been apprised that his curfew is midnight.”

“Midnight?!”

“Let him have this time to be a boy, Tatsuo-san.” Shinji stepped around him to pull out a chair, upon which Farla had settled a fluffy cushion. “And let us have this time together to talk.”

Back straight, eyes wary, Tatsuo slunk into the chair. Shinji merely smiled at him as he took his own seat. Farla lit the candle on the table as the sun set pink and purple against a backdrop of gathering city lights. She presented the bottle of Riesling for Shinji’s approval, which he accepted, so she proceeded to serve it. Once she had served the chilled wine, the still water and the hot oolong tea, Shinji stopped her with a raised hand.

“It is fine now, Farla-san,” he said. “I will serve from here. You may take your leave.” Then he gave her the tip while Tatsuo watched in silent mystification. Shinji knew that he was still having some difficulty growing accustomed to the bald-faced manner in which gratuities were handled in this country where Shiro had chosen to settle down.

“Is this another form of tea?” Tatsuo asked after Farla had gone, and well he might assume so, given the fact that their seafood dinner had been served on a multi-tiered platter.

“Not a tea,” Shinji smiled. “Just a dramatic manner of presentation.”

Oysters, shrimp and lobster tails lay on beds of crushed ice garnished with sea lettuce. Much to Shinji’s amusement, Tatsuo reached for the sea lettuce to nibble on first. 

Tatsuo, ever suspicious of Shinji’s motives anymore, immediately took umbrage. “What is so humorous to you?”

“Nothing to be concerned about.” Shinji picked up the serving tongs to select items for both of their dinner plates from the platters, and from the towel-wrapped bowl of sweet potato fries which he’d selected as the side dish. He was growing quite fond of these bright orange sweet potatoes. “It has simply been some time since I’ve had the pleasure of dining with you alone.”

“You have had tea with me within the past two days, and breakfast only yesterday.”

“It is not the same.” Shinji set out the cold ramekins of tartar and cocktail sauce, the warmed ramekins of drawn butter, and the lemon slices, and noticed Tatsuo watching attentively. “There is no specific ritual to serving this, you simply eat in the order which you prefer. Although, oysters are generally consumed as an appetizer here, so you can start with those if you like.”

Tatsuo’s tense posture relaxed as he evidently realized that every item on the tiered platter was familiar to him. That had been by design. Shinji enjoyed watching Tatsuo explore new things, but it had not escaped his notice that lately he needed to feel a certain comfort level before he would do so. Sure enough, once Tatsuo had ascertained for himself that he could handle the entrees without assistance, he began testing out the condiments. The purpose of the lemon slices was obvious, and the application of the cocktail sauce was easily deduced by smell and appearance, what with ketchup as the main ingredient.

Tatsuo delicately tasted a dab of the drawn butter with a fingertip. “What is the butter for? Surely it’s not for the fried yam sticks.” 

“It’s for your shellfish,” Shinji said. “It serves much the same purpose as sakura sauce.”

Tatsuo looked skeptical but tested the drawn butter with a peeled shrimp. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this private meal?”

Getting right to the point without trying to tease an angle of advantage out of Shinji beforehand? Perhaps it was not only Kuro becoming emboldened on this excursion to face with Shiro. Or perhaps Tatsuo was growing to allow Shinji within his comfort zone. Encouraged by the latter possibility, Shinji responded with equal candor.

“We need to discuss what occupations you wish to pursue, now that Shiro has chosen a bride. I am ready to assist you in whatever endeavor you choose.”

“I am the Widow Shirogane, mother to his child. What other occupation would be required of me?” Tatsuo punctuated that statement by biting into a shrimp. 

“You will no longer be held answerable for any social obligations incurred as the mate of a Shirogane head of house.” Shinji sat back in his chair, wine in hand, and watched the subtle play of reactions ripple across the skin smooth as cream which Tatsuo shared with his son. “That duty will fall to Lansu-san, starting tomorrow. You will be free to choose a path according to your preference.”

Tatsuo looked conflicted at such a prospect. “I must continue to observe the memorial services.”

“And you have done.” Tatsuo had faithfully observed every memorial day, from the first to the hundredth, and Obon too. Shinji had little doubt he would continue to observe every anniversary in respectful propriety. “There is no need for you to continue to do so in seclusion.”

“Are you offering to accompany me in my dowager state?”

Tatsuo had meant it to be taken as a rebuke, but Shinji could now clearly see the fear underlying it. The fear of being cast out and left all alone.

“I would cherish your company in whatever state you deem acceptable,” Shinji said, and then he drank his wine to allow Tatsuo some time to reflect on the offers which had just been laid before him like magic wishes.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The rehearsal dinner was unavoidably rumbustious. Fifteen people crowded around a dinner table meant to serve ten, passing pizza boxes, soda and wine bottles, and at one point a cute box made out of a clam shell (“If any of you sees Sylvio rearing back to throw it like a baseball, somebody get ready to play catch”) and just generally being cheerful and loud. Hunk’s friend Allura held her mate Shay in her lap in a bid to make up for the shortage of dining chairs. Keith decided to plunk his nearly-married behind down in Hunk’s lap as well, which was all well and good for Keith as his mother wasn’t sitting right there like Lance’s was. Haruka was even perched on the armrest of Kai’s chair, the two of them passing food and drink to each other like two hearts believing in just one mind. 

Then Shiro hoisted one of the chair-and-a-half armchairs from the parlor so that he and Lance could squeeze into it side by side. Marco opened a box that turned out to be garlic knots speckled with green chives, and cracked a joke about how everybody better get one before Lance saw it. “No, you better pass that box over here, is what you better do,” was Lance’s retort, to the amusement of his table-mates. The dinner was everything he had never realized he could want out of a traditional get-together that from what he’d heard was supposed to be rather stuffy.

After the pizza and garlic knots disappeared, Haruka elicited gasps of delight by unveiling a fluffy sponge cake which she’d managed to carve out time to bake at some point during the day, along with strawberry sauce to pour over it. At everyone’s wonderment, she said, “Groom’s cake is appropriate for the rehearsal dinner, is it not? Omnia said it was, so I made it.” ‘It’ being a favorite dessert of Shiro’s which Haruka served about once a week and could probably make in her sleep, sauce notwithstanding. Nevertheless, the only person at the table who was not surprised was Hunk, because he’d been the one to help arrange the grocery delivery for the ingredients.

The sponge cake was summarily demolished along with a bottle of ruby port, and the significantly mellowed conversation turned to dance. As in, their first one for the reception. Hunk said the hotel would be able to rearrange the Royal Suite’s entertainment room to make space for portable dance floor tiles. The hotel’s A/V team could set up the entertainment room’s media equipment to project a streaming playlist through the surround sound speakers. They could even program it to generate randomized selections, but they could also still have a Master of Ceremonies on hand for announcements, special requests and the like.

“I still think you should do the money dance,” Marco said.

“We can’t expect all of the guests to know how to fold bank notes into accessories, and there is too little time left to teach them,” Vibiana said, patting his back. “When you get married, then we will do the money dance.”

That shut him right up. 

Meanwhile Keith smirked at Lance across the table, and Lance knew exactly what he was thinking about. There had been many nights when they had returned to the apartment from the Purple Imperial with dollar bills still sweat-stuck to uncomfortable places, which they’d take turns peeling off of each other before hiding them in the soap dish hidden inside the toilet tank.

“You should dance casino,” Rachel suggested, and oh, that did sound like fun.

“Rueda de casino for the family dances would make a fine celebration,” Vibiana said, “but the first dance should be for the bride and groom only.”

“Rumba!” Marco wasn’t giving up on having his opinion heard on the dancing.

“Ay, you want to see Lancito and Guapito pantomime the wedding night before all of our eyes?”

Sitting with Lance tucked up under his arm, Shiro was watching the interplay like a spectator at a tennis match.

“No,” Vibiana went on, “their first dance should be danzonete.”

“Just because you don’t want to see any risque moves doesn’t mean they should have to dance like Pipo and Mima.”

“My first dance with your Papá at our wedding was danzonete,” Vibiana reminded Marco. “It was your grandparents’ first dance too, and Luis and Lisa’s.”

“It wasn’t Vero and Dorma’s,” Marco countered.

“Only because they got married at the courthouse and then had their reception in the Teles’s backyard,” Vibiana grumbled. Apparently she was not for letting that one go anytime soon.

“Lance would need el abanico for danzonete,” Rachel pointed out. “I don’t think he has one.”

“Oo! Yes I do!” Lance jumped out of the Shiro-warmed chair. “Kuro gave it to me! ‘Scuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Lance hustled away from the bemused dinner guests back to his room to collect the folding fan. Among the souvenirs which Shiro had brought back the previous night had been a gift box of chili flavored Kit Kats, a little green teddy bear wearing an apple on his head, and the small folding fan, which Shiro had called a sensu. Lance found the sensu fan on top of the dresser and rushed back into the dining room, stopping in the entrance to pose dramatically and snap open the fan to reveal its decoration of stylized camellias flying apart into heart-shaped petals.

The guests laughed and clapped, and praised Kuro’s good taste as he blushed.

“This is wonderful!” Vibiana said. “Guapito stand up please, I want to see how you two look in closed position.”

Shiro obligingly stood and stepped over to Lance, who closed the fan and placed that hand on his broad shoulder. The other hand Shiro took in a curled grip as he lay a warm palm against Lance’s waist. Shiro had beautiful posture, offering a firm connection through the points where they touched. Lance had met plenty of musicians whose rhythm did not extend to their feet, but this was not a man who lacked any confidence in his competence on the floor, and really, he should have known. There was a saying about how talent in the bedroom was presaged by talent on the dance floor, and Lance already damn well knew Shiro could make the earth move in bed.

“You can dance,” Lance said. That may have come out a little bit accusingly.

“Of course,” Shiro said, as if his musicality should have been enough of a clue to contradict his own previous words and actions.

“You’ve been holding out on me, querido.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But Shiro’s lip twitched towards a smile, and Lance was sure he remembered that first date, when Lance had asked if there would be dancing and gotten shut down like a house party broken up by the popo.

“Uh huh. Well, now that I know you can dance, you’re going to have to take me.”

“You have a lovely frame together,” Vibiana broke into their little tête-a-tête, “but you need to hold him closer Guapito, this is not a waltz.”

Shiro clinched Lance into a close embrace with a speed that left him breathless. “This close?” he breathed into Lance’s ear.

_Oh, yes papi–_

“No, not offset, it’s not a tango either.” Vibiana looked down the table. “I need a volunteer to help me demonstrate.”

“I would like to volunteer!” Kuro wriggled in his seat like an eager puppy.

“Kuro, do you know this dance?” Shiro looked a little miffed that he might be about to be shown up by his baby brother.

“It’s fine if he doesn’t, I will teach him while I show you,” Vibiana said. “Come here Precioso, I will show you how to stand.”

Kuro hopped up and took to Vibiana’s instructions with enviable deftness as Lance and Shiro adjusted their stance by watching them.

“Marco, Rachel,” Vibiana called over her shoulder, “give us some music, yes?”

Rachel began to tap out cinquillo on the tabletop with two butter knives, as Marco let his smooth tenor soar.

♪ “Mi amor azul...” ♪

As Marco continued to croon about a lover who shone like the moon, Lance looked up into the face of the man who could compel him with a force like gravity.

“I’ll take you dancing, honey,” Shiro said in a low voice as he began to lead Lance in the dance. “I promise.”

Lance gazed deep into his luminous eyes as they swayed within each other’s orbit. “I’ll hold you to it.”


	11. Let's Go Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How not to behave in a noodle shop. Also: Coran Coran the gorgeous man brings the party with him everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the views, kudos and comments! Shout outs to luminiferousaether, PyroInfinite, SinisterChaos, Yo_buddy and Inoshi! Thanks for reading, everybody!
> 
> Trigger warning for anyone with emetophobia, you might want to stop reading at the 8th tilde, and pick up again at the 10th. You won't miss any of the plot, just a little gross-out humor.

  
“This is just recon,” Keith said, half-turned in the driver’s seat of the Subaru to face the occupants of the backseat. “Don’t be a hero.”

“Please.” Lance traded some kind of sibling telepathy look with his sister before facing front to look Keith in the eye. “We so got this.”

They were in the parking garage that served the plaza where the noodle shop was located. Fluorescent lamps illuminated the gloom of the almost empty second level. It was past 9:30 on a Sunday night, so most of the businesses were closed, except for the noodle shop and a few other venues with liquor licenses. It was the cusp of Hallowmass and the atmosphere was kind of spooky. Perfect timing to carry out the plan.

Keith still couldn’t believe Lance’s mom hadn’t raised a ruckus about him going out this late with a guy she’d just met on the night before his wedding, because she’d seemed like the kind of lady who didn’t miss a trick. Keith knew for a fact that Kuro’s mom would have never allowed it if he’d known about it. He’d half-expected to have to spring Lance out of the cloister room instead of just waltzing out of the penthouse together free as birds. Shiro had looked like he might object for a second there, before Ise showed up to remind Kuro of his curfew and then drag Shiro off for drinks. Hunk had gone with the two of them, his only commentary on the matter being a wink that told Keith that he was trusted.

Keith felt so goddamn lucky.

“Look, here’s their online menu.” Lance’s sister Rachel shared her phone’s screen so they could view it with her. “We can pick something easy and then ask for a bunch of substitutions to see if we can make him crazy as a goat.”

Rachel was kind of an enigma in that she acted like she had no idea that she was hot. Keith still hadn’t figured out if that was real or just a put on so that she wouldn’t have to put up with people telling her she was hot all the time. If it was the latter, Keith could relate. He used to have customers telling him he was sexy all the time at the Purple Imperial, always in this dumbstruck way, like they couldn’t believe he didn’t know, when the actual fact was that it was his job to be sexy, so how the hell could it possibly have escaped his notice? But Sniv always got his panties in a twist whenever Keith smarted off at the clientele, so he’d learned to just let them gawk at him while he took all their money.

“Great!” Lance opened his door to climb out. “Let’s go mess up a jerk’s day!”

“It’s just a recon mission!” Keith called out after him, as Rachel got out of the vehicle too and strolled over to join her brother.

“Don’t worry!” Lance called back over his shoulder as they walked over to the ramp leading down to the first level instead of taking the stairwell. “You’ll get frown lines if you worry!”

“That idiot,” Keith murmured, not without fondness. Lance was his equal in propensity for mischief, but his execution tended towards the grandiose, which had a tendency to land him in trouble. He was like a human embodiment of the Authority Song sometimes. At least he had his sister to watch his back this time. Maybe that would make the difference.

“Will he be alright?” Kuro turned from the mirror on the sun visor where he had begun to apply his makeup.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Keith reassured him. “When he falls he lands like a cat. It’s just, sometimes he shreds the curtains on the way down, that’s all.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The noodle shop was located in a corner of the plaza where the sidewalk sloped up to meet a handrail guarding the entrance. Menu boards and specials posters took up most of the front window’s available real estate, but the neon sign said they were open, so Lance and Rachel went on in.

The interior was lit with basket lanterns, casting indirect light over a dining room done up in redwood, from the open-beam ceiling to the unfinished floors. The chairs were already upturned over tables, that’s how empty and close to closing time it was. The only customer in the place was a guy sitting at the bar slurping noodles while talking to a little shorty in a tan chef coat. Based on Keith’s descriptions, the shorty in the chef coat could only be Cousin Bob. Both of them looked up from their conversation as Lance and Rachel approached.

“Well now, who do we have here?” Lance and Rachel both received leering smiles – Rachel from Bob, and Lance from Bob’s buddy at the bar. “Care to belly up for a snack?”

“I want to sit at a table,” Rachel declared, yanking a chair off the table she happened to be standing next to. Her annoying little shit game was on point tonight. 

Lance was going to be hard pressed to keep up with her but he’d sure try. “That’s a great idea,” he said, as he took down a chair from a different table and pulled up next to Rachel’s.

“You– I– but– ” Bob reached out as if he could telekinetically put the chairs back on the tables, while his buddy looked a wee bit delighted at this turn of events. If the ruddy state of his cheeks was anything to judge by, the buddy was a wee bit drunk.

“What can I get you.” Bob evidently decided that the customer could be right on a slow Sunday night. “Do you need to look at the menu?”

“No, we looked online,” Rachel said. “I want spicy tonkotsu ramen, but don’t make it spicy. And no pork. And if you could throw a couple spider rolls on top that would be great.”

Bob was now giving them a look that Lance had seen many times whenever some unsuspecting sap met with the wrong end of one of Rachel’s escapades. She had mastered the art of making people wonder if she was evil or just deeply stupid. As long as the target remained unsure, the benefit of the doubt held sway. The trick would be playing it with a straight face all the way through to the end. It was probably a good thing Rachel was taking point, because Lance had never been good at keeping a straight face during his turns at the trickster role.

“Miss,” Bob began slowly, “you do realize that the broth you asked for is made from pork? It is a pork bone broth.”

“Yeah, but I’m a flexitarian.”

Bob turned his stunned gaze to Lance as if he could make sense of Rachel’s order for him. “And you, serah?”

“Oh, I’m not on a diet,” Lance said. “I’ll just have your tsukemen house special.”

He knew his role as Rachel’s accomplice was just to act like a friendly bystander. Lull the guy into a false sense of security thinking he was dealing with the normal one whenever he was talking to Lance, and then drop the hammer.

“Order in.” Bob wobbled behind a red curtain that didn’t completely conceal him trying to figure out how to prepare Rachel’s order.

“I think you broke him.” Bob’s buddy invited himself over to Lance and Rachel’s table, noodles and all. He had a luxuriant head of hair, glossed and styled with an exuberant amount of product, which he tossed extravagantly as he chose his seat. “Hi, I’m Kouzou Enjouji, Norlox Industries.” He put out a hand to Lance.

“Hi,” Lance said, giving the hand a brief shake instead of a clasp. This guy was an alpha, and if his scent was anything to judge by he definitely liked male omegas.

“Sooo...” Enjouji gave Lance an appreciative once-over. “Is your name Maverick? ‘Cause you’re taking me into the danger zone.”

Wow, that was just about the silliest pickup line Lance had ever had aimed in his direction. Worse than any of his own, which was saying something. It was even worse than that one guy who screwed up ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ by asking him if it left a knot on his head, then fumbled his attempt at a save by offering to massage it for him.

“Are you courting my brother?” Rachel leaned across the table at Enjouji.

“Uh, I, well, I...”

“Because you will have to arm wrestle our oldest brother first for privileges,” Rachel went on, poker face in full effect, “and he is huge.”

This was actually not a complete lie. Luis was about the same size as Hunk, and nearly as cuddly. He was not in the custom of arm wrestling Lance’s suitors, but if he were he’d probably win. His arms were like tree trunks.

“I mean...” Enjouji sprawled in the chair with his feet spread wide. “I just thought we’d get to know each other a little, maybe some of this and some of that, know what I’m saying?”

Lance knew exactly what he was saying, and there had been a time in the not too distant past when he would have encouraged further interaction before demanding his fee. Viewed up close, Lance could also see that Enjouji had a good many years on him, despite the virile quality of his hair. Dude dressed like he had money to burn, it would have been worth putting up with the sleaze factor in the bad old days; but those days were over, and Lance wasn’t sorry to bid them farewell.

“Order up!” Bob bustled out from behind the counter carrying a tray upon which a bowl of steaming ramen sat next to a dish with spider rolls spiking up from it. “Here you are, it’s pescatarian I assure you. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Rachel said as she scrutinized the bowl set before her. Lance peered over her shoulder. Bob had layered the noodles artfully in a broth the color of a stormy sunrise, and it did look a hell of a lot like spicy tonkotsu, but it smelled more like when Haruka made misoshiru for breakfast. Bob had arranged the ramen egg and nori with a pile of scallions and extra mushrooms to make up for the lack of pork belly that would normally be on there.

“Looks great,” Rachel said to Bob’s obvious relief, and then she picked up the dish of spider rolls and dumped them all on top of the ramen before digging in with a fork. Bob made a noise like when Donna Summer left a cake out in the rain.

Rachel just blinked up at him, chewing with a deep fried crab claw hanging out of her mouth. “This has spicy in it.”

“On the house!” Bob retreated back to his lair behind the red curtain at a dead run.

Lance continued to watch Rachel munch on her self-created monstrosity, as did their uninvited table-mate.

“You’re really going to town on that thing,” said Enjouji.

“I do like spicy food,” Rachel said mid-crunch. “It just makes me barf.”

Enjouji put some extra space between his chair and hers. The action jiggled the Figaro chain around his neck, causing the charm dangling from it to shake loose of his partially unbuttoned shirt. On second glance it was not a charm, but a car key fob with the BMW logo highly visible in its center. Lance remembered noticing a Bimmer parked on level one when they’d cased the parking garage on the way over. It had been parked right up next to a little blue Mazda which had a participating merchant validation permit hanging from its rear-view mirror.

What were the chances that those vehicles belonged to Enjouji and Bob? If they did, then the prospect of setting up the surprise in a convenient spot had just improved dramatically. Those cars were parked in the shadowed lee of the ramp, adjacent to the stairway landing and close to a maintenance closet. The car owners had probably been more concerned with preserving their paint jobs than with their own personal safety when they’d chosen those spaces. 

“Hot car, huh?” Lance put on his best simpering face as he pretended to admire the keychain Enjouji was wearing like jewelry. “I’ve heard they ride like a dream.”

Enjouji preened as Rachel shot Lance a raised eyebrow. Okay, maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but if they got confirmation of what he suspected then it would be worth it in terms of future avoided hassles.

“Yeah, I got the sport activity model,” Enjouji bragged. “I’ve got massive road clearance but I can still squeeze into a parking space at the gentlemen’s club.”

Oh yeah, that was his car all right. Lance turned a ‘toldja so’ look on Rachel, who shrugged in silent acknowledgment that stroking Enjouji’s ego had been a stroke of genius.

“Here we are!” Bob bustled back out with another tray. “Tsukemen house special, I hope you enjoy!”

Set before Lance on the tray was a large bowl of cold noodles and a small bowl of hot broth, and he was glad to see it looked just like the menu board picture. Between Keith and Shiro, Lance had encountered this dish just enough times that he knew how it was meant to be eaten. What he had planned wouldn’t have been as dramatic if the ratio between the noodle bowl and the broth bowl had turned out to be less extreme. If he wasn’t still full of pizza and sponge cake, he would have regretted what he was about to do, because the food did smell good.

“Thank you, this looks delicious!” Lance picked up the big noodle bowl and upended it over the little broth bowl, causing broth to slop out the sides before the entire bowl disappeared under a mountain of noodles. His pout was not entirely pretend. “Aw.”

“You– that– the broth is for dipping!” As the proverbial goat went, so too did Bob.

“I know.” Lance let his lip pooch out. “It doesn’t all fit, though.”

“Not the whole– ! You– ! You’re supposed to– ” Bob gestured like an aircraft marshaller at the chopsticks still innocently resting on Lance’s tray. “Argh! You know what? I will not charge you two beautiful dum dums a single red cent for this abomination of an order if you will just leave! Right now!”

Since they’d already gotten what they actually came for, that suited Lance right down to the ground.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
How long could it take to do reconnaissance on one small noodle shop? Were they ordering fresh noodles made from scratch? Keith drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he kept his eyes trained on the ramp whence Lance and his sister had disappeared what seemed like eons ago. Civilizations rose and fell while he waited for them to schlep their happy asses back to the garage.

“How do I look?”

Absentmindedly, Keith turned his head right into his own personal Twilight Zone experience. “Gah!”

The specter before him grinned maniacally. “Scary?” Kuro’s sweet voice was all kinds of contradictory coming out of that face.

“Really scary,” Keith said in all honesty, as his heartbeat settled back into a normal rhythm. 

In fact, Kuro looked quite a bit more like his mother than he usually did, if Kuro’s mother had turned into a mountain witch. Keith wondered whether that had been a conscious decision on Kuro’s part.

“Look, here come Lance and Rachel.” Kuro pointed toward the ramp. Even his hands were made up.

Sure enough, there under the fluorescent tubes lighting up the ramp with weird misty luminescence, skipped Lance and Rachel hand-in-hand like a demented Hansel and Gretel. Keith and Kuro got out of the car to greet them.

“Hey Keith, guess what! ¡Ay Dios!” Lance saw Kuro and tried to climb Keith like a tree.

“Lance, I can’t hold you on my shoulders like that, get down!”

Kuro was totally psyched. “This is really going to work!” His gleeful expression made the makeup look even scarier.

“Damn skippy it’s gonna work.” Lance calmed his shit down once he heard Kuro’s voice come out of the apparition sharing their huddle. Plus, his sister had hardly reacted so he was probably embarrassed. “We got some valuable intel to lay on your fine asses.”

Kuro’s eldritch features furrowed in confusion. “We didn’t bring any donkeys?”

“Lance.” Rachel lightly punched her brother on the upper arm.

“Your figurative asses,” Lance corrected himself, “not your literal ones.”

“Lance, really?”

After the briefest and most inconsequential of squabbles, the siblings gave their debrief and the situation was even better than Keith could have hoped. If their luck held out they could arrange an ambush without having to set another foot out of the parking garage until they made their getaway. Which was great, because while initially Keith had wanted as many witnesses as possible, now he wanted to minimize any danger to Kuro. It had been one thing when Keith was going to be the one in the fright makeup. He couldn’t stand it if the kid got hurt while trying to help him out.

They stealthily took the supplies down to level one, after Keith had been reassured that their target wasn’t going to be along for a little while longer than they’d originally assumed.

“He’s gonna have to clean up the mess we made before he can lock up,” Lance told Keith. “We can never show our faces in that restaurant ever again.” He wiped away an imaginary tear.

“Banned for life,” Rachel confirmed, looking completely unconcerned about it.

They slunk into the shadows pooled around the cars of their victims, and quickly realized that if they set it up too close to the cars, Kuro might not have anywhere to run to afterward that wouldn’t give him away as a living human being. Keith decided to break into the maintenance closet to see what he could find.

“Aren’t there security cameras in this place?” Rachel asked as the rest of the group hovered around watching him poke at the doorknob with the punk end of one of the incense sticks from the Target bag.

“Yeah, but nobody ever bothers checking through all that footage unless they have a reason to.”

“What is that incense supposed to smell like?” Lance asked as he held a hand in front of his nose.

Keith held it up to his nose, took a whiff and regretted it. “I think this one used to be peaches and cream.” That stick had definitely turned, a consequence of him buying the cheapest stuff he could find. Good thing all he really needed it for now was to get into a locked closet.

Keith made efficient work of the lock and found... not really a whole hell of a lot of useful things for his purposes. Giant rolls of paper towels, a mop in a wringer bucket, a push broom, a few packages of spare fluorescent bulbs, a couple of ladders, flashlights, paint cans, masking tape, and spare parking bumpers which was a thing he had never even considered might be in a parking garage maintenance closet, though now he couldn’t imagine why not. People must run over those things all the time.

“We could blow out one of the overhead bulbs and rig a pulley on the ceiling struts to make Kuro’s lantern float out of the darkness over his head, so he looks even more wispy and eerie,” Rachel said.

Lance gasped. “Like Giselle and the Willis.”

Rachel nodded sagely.

“If we vandalize the property, then security will have a reason to want to look at the recorded footage,” Keith reminded them. “Besides, I don’t know if we have enough time to figure out a moveable pulley system for the lantern.”

“What if we rig a fixed pulley system for me,” Kuro suggested. “You could lower me over the side of the ramp and float me over their cars and then bring me up back up again. It would be like riding the sky in kabuki, so thrilling!”

Obviously Kuro did not share his older brother’s issues with heights. Dangling him ten feet off the ground had the potential to become a more terrifying experience for the pranksters than for the pranked upon, in Keith’s considered opinion.

“How about we go check out the stairwell,” he said to forestall any further discussion of hoisting Kuro on a pulley like a big scary yo-yo.

“Stairwells are spooky,” Lance agreed. “It’d be like The Grudge.”

The stairwell was enclosed, so it had great potential as a staging area. Kuro could emerge out of it and then sneak back afterward, and it was conveniently accessible for escaping back up to the second level. The exterior of the stairwell was gloomy indeed, but when they opened the door they found that the interior was bright with that ghostly white fluorescent light. There would be no mystery surrounding Kuro if he used this point of egress. What if one of their targets was brave enough to try chasing him?

“I wonder if we could screen the light in here?” Lance asked.

“We could screen it with paper!” Kuro exclaimed.

“The paper towels,” Keith realized.

They trooped back to the maintenance closet for the paper towels, masking tape, ladders and flashlights. A short while later, they had functional light screens inside of the whole stairwell. They had Kuro do a quick test run out of the stairwell and discovered two things. Thing one: Kuro knew how to contort his torso to hold that battery-operated lantern over his head so that it wasn’t obvious that he was the one holding the lantern, and the overall effect was spooky as hell. Thing two: the stairwell door was freaking noisy and not in the desired creepy-creaky way either.

“We need to prop it so it doesn’t close completely,” Rachel said.

“How are we gonna do that without someone holding it open?” Lance asked. “These doors are fire code compliant, they’ll always fall shut without somebody holding onto them.”

“The parking bumpers!” Keith felt hope kindle anew in his chest. It was like the universe had placed them there because it wanted this prank to happen. They were doing this!

Moments later, they had a rubber parking bumper wedged against the bottom stair to keep the door from closing completely, but now Kuro was dissatisfied with the staging.

“It’s not quite threatening enough,” he said. “I need something to paint with.”

“What is it you want to paint?” Keith asked warily. They could easily take down the paper towel screens and put the bumper back where they’d found it, but paint would take longer to put to rights and they still had a curfew to contend with.

“I want to paint on the bottom-most paper screen,” Kuro said.

So Keith relented and they brought a spray can of black striping paint and a ladder into the stairwell. Kuro hopped up and started painting kanji figures on the thick paper towels with much greater speed than Keith would have been able to form them. He could read them just as fast as Kuro, though. The light filtering through the beige paper backlit them effectively enough to make out the characters.

“You’re wishing them the fate they deserve?” he asked cynically. “These guys are arrogant enough to think they deserve the best of everything.”

“Even the arrogant are capable of guarding a guilty conscience,” Kuro replied serenely as he inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he hopped back down off the ladder.

They tested the scene again. It was pretty damn creepy but now there was a whole different problem.

“I can still smell the paint fumes,” Lance said. “That’s kinda scary, but not in the way we want.”

“It should smell like decay,” Kuro agreed.

Keith held up the withered incense stick in his hand and grinned. “And it will.”

The scene was set. The trap was laid. Keith, Lance and Rachel would hide partway up the ramp just in case Kuro needed them to run to the rescue (and also because it was the best vantage point to watch the prank go down without being out in the clear open). Now all they had to do was wait for the chumps to show up. But they would wait near the open entrance to the parking garage, because once they lit the incense it started getting stanky in there.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Bob had run himself right past worn out straight to dead on his feet. The life of a restaurateur was not blessed with much in the way of free time, he’d known that going in, but Sundays were usually his slow days to relax and let down his metaphorical hair. He’d go through the motions for a shortened work day, and then go carousing with Kouzou. However, on this unlucky day two gorgeous idiots had walked into his satellite shop and laid waste to everything they’d touched. Now Bob would be happy to just go home and watch the late night comedians with a beer and no company, but Kouzou hadn’t yet given up on trying to make something of the night.

“Come on, man.” He walked backwards in front of Bob to plead his case face to face. “I know this one place where you can pay the strippers to be your furniture.”

“Forget it Kouzou, I’m beat.” Bob liked looking at hotties as much as the next red-blooded guy, but some of Kouzou’s tastes were a little out there even for Bob.

Dead ahead yawned the gateway to his release from Kouzou’s persistence. Kouzou could just scurry on back to the loft his father bought him to keep him far away from important clients back in Shinjuku (and boy, would he be surprised when he finally found out his father was planning to adopt the company's VP) and leave Bob out of any partying plans he had for the rest of the night. He thought about putting the roadster’s top down for the ride home, since it didn’t smell like rain for once this week.

It did smell like something though. Something rank. The smell became stronger as they walked past the turnstiles where the proles paid for their temporary parking permits. 

Kouzou gave up his sales pitch and fell back to pace Bob. “What smells like rotten peaches?”

So that’s what that was. “Maybe something rolled out of a fruit vendor’s truck.” Except peaches had been out of season for over a month.

An uneasy feeling of wrongness crept over Bob as he and Kouzou pressed into the semidarkness where their vehicles were parked. Was it his imagination, or were the shadows deeper in here than usual for this time of night?

♪ ｢Waiting anxiously...｣ ♪

The unearthly voice echoed from somewhere close by. Bob sought out the wan glimmer of Kouzou’s face in the murky light.

“Did you remote start your car?” Bob asked. 

He knew Kouzou liked those old songs, preferably played live by a fresh young beauty, but he also knew that Kouzou liked to privately reminisce on former conquests from time to time with recordings. Yet Bob hadn’t seen the BMW’s headlamps flash or heard the matchstick sound of the engine turning over.

“Impossible,” Kouzou breathed. His eyes looked past Bob, who turned to follow his stunned gaze in time to catch the sight of the stairwell door drifting open silently as the apparition within continued singing in such terribly sweet tones.

♪｢...floating... ｣ ♪

The stench became intolerable as the creature glided in their direction, a chōchin hovering in midair over its head as it reached out for them with its only arm.

♪｢...here is my tear-drenched sleeve... ｣ ♪

Behind it, an ominous wish flickered like a fire offering.

｢Izumo-kun, I am not to blame!｣ Kouzou’s eyes were huge with terror. ｢It was all Azasu-chan’s doing! I swear to you, I never meant for this to happen!｣

“You?” Bob found his voice. “You brought this down on us?”

“It’s not my fault!”

Kouzou’s voice warbled in the wind created by Bob running past him flat out. His feet pounded the asphalt as his breath whistled in his chest. He heard the rapid tread of a heavier body running behind him and put on an adrenaline-fueled burst of fresh speed.

“Bob, wait for me!” Kouzou shouted.

“Not on your life!” Bob could spend the night on the couch in his office (wouldn’t be the first time) and Kouzou could figure his own shit out.

Yes-sirree, Bob was turning over a new leaf. Right after he outran Kouzou and locked himself inside his noodle shop to wait for the morning light. Someone else could take on the night shift at the satellite store, Bob was done.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The rooftop rose garden lounge did, on occasion, offer extended hours for exclusive guests. Hunk figured Shiro more than counted as such, and he also figured that he himself would prefer not to get sloshed in front of large groups of his guests and employees just as much as those employees would probably prefer not to have him right in their faces for all of the final hours of their shifts. Shiro, meanwhile, was free to get as sloshed as he pleased since he wasn’t in public and he wasn’t driving anywhere. Well maybe not too sloshed. They were due at their one and only rehearsal just as soon as the Royal Suite’s booking clock started.

“Hunk!” Shiro’s Aviation cocktail came dangerously close to staining his shirt cuffs purple as he threw an arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “You are my good friend Hunk! I love you so much!”

Maybe it was too late to keep Shiro from getting sloshed. Hunk had made sure they were seated so that Shiro did not have a direct view over the edge of the roof, but it seemed the knowledge that the edge was there had caused Shiro to seek liquid courage. At least he was a happy drunk?

“You made me realize *hic* love is like a bull.” Shiro raised his glass as purple droplets sprinkled about. “I should ride it!”

Hunk patted Shiro on the back. “I think you’re mixing up your metaphors there, my friend.”

“These mixed drinks are amazing!” Shiro stared into the opaque surface of his cocktail as if it were a crystal ball. “Why did I never know how great these were before?”

“Getting married and drinking strong spirits!” Coran, who had walked down the street to join them after his shift at the department store ended, threw an arm around Shiro from his other side. “You’re becoming a man!”

Coran tended to be a sentimental drunk. He could hold his liquor like no human being Hunk had ever encountered, but he had to be at least on his third– 

“Another Mad Pirate for you, serah?” Moxilous appeared at their table with a cordial glass of the spicy buttershots nightmare all ready on his serving tray.

“Moxilous you wonderful man!” Coran handed his empty off to Moxilous and made grabby hands for his fourth round. “You always anticipate me!”

“It’s my job, serah,” Moxilous reminded him calmly.

“And you do it so well!” Coran batted his eyelashes at Moxilous before taking to his drink as if it were a Shirley Temple instead of a super-sized Tabasco shooter.

Across from Shiro at their table under the trellis, Shiro’s intern Daniel raised his empty highball glass. “Another mojito, my good man!”

“Of course.” Moxilous solicitously took the empty highball glass, completely unfazed at being tasked with mixing such a time-intensive cocktail yet again. “Would any of the rest of you gentlemen like another round?”

“More rounds!” Shiro declared cheerfully. “Drinks on me!” He gestured magnanimously and then the drink really was on him. 

Kai generously gave his employer his napkin with one hand and his empty beer goblet to Moxilous with the other. Shiro dropped the napkin, so Darrell passed his over while Kai plucked up Darrel’s cider mug to hand off to Moxilous. Shiro dropped the second napkin. As smoothly as if he were merely whipping a tissue out of a box, Moxilous handed Shiro a stack of extra napkins from his now-laden tray, which he balanced easily on one hand.

Hunk had already approved overtime pay for Moxilous. He made a mental note to add a bonus on top of that.

“I would like a cup of hot tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” Shinji said. He still had most of his second peach fizz resting by his elbow.

“You can bring me a coffee, black,” Hunk decided, with a hand motion over his rocks glass to signal that he was also done imbibing for the evening. Shinji shouldn’t have to corral this increasingly rowdy (and clumsy) group alone. “Thanks, Mox.”

“Coming right up.”

While bachelor parties were not traditional for Japanese weddings, Shinji was aware of the custom and wanted to observe it for Shiro. Hunk was more than happy to help with that and had made an effort to include as many people as possible on such short notice. Allura had regretfully bowed out, as she and Shay needed the time to work out musical arrangements before the rehearsal. _The Sleeping Beauty_ had extensive parts for harp and violin, but regardless of which selections they chose they would most likely also have to carry melodies originally written for different instruments. They were hoping to have that ironed out before the first full run-through.

Rachel had been swept up by Lance’s party, so Vibiana had tapped Marco to help her complete final alterations on the frock she’d made. After a wistful look back at the gathering group of revelers, Marco had followed his mother back to the Beverly Suite she’d be sharing with Rachel for the duration of their stay. Omnia and Haruka had still been poring over the wedding day’s plans when the rest of the group had left, both of them eager to have it go off without any hiccups. If ever there were anyone capable of scaring a date on the calendar into compliance, it was those two ladies. 

A young alpha by the unusual name of Pidge had sent her regrets due to a visiting omega family member whom she didn’t wish to leave alone in her apartment napping off his jet lag. How ironic that the party member currently drinking everyone else under the table was also its lone omega. Shiro had some other friendly business associates connected to Hawkins Aircraft Company who had also begged off due to prior engagements, but who promised to make time to drop by the reception the following day.

“Let’s play Possum!” Coran suggested with boozy good cheer.

“Play dead?” Daniel asked, frowning.

“No, it’s where you try to stay in a tree!” Coran pantomimed climbing a tree. It was an excellent bit of charades. One could easily envision the imaginary six pack under Coran’s arm.

“Yeah, maybe we ought to stay out of trees after what happened the last time,” Hunk said. They didn’t need a repeat of the incident that occurred in the front drive of the Miramar Hotel after Shay and Allura’s engagement party. Hunk still had to endure dirty looks from some of their staff at hospitality expos.

“Aww.” Coran’s mustache drooped.

“I know!” Daniel tried to snap his fingers but his coordination was impaired so he just looked like he was making a claw hand. He kept trying. He kept making a claw hand.

“What,” Kai said after they all got tired of waiting for Daniel to finish his sentence.

Daniel gave up on snapping and just pointed. “We should play Mustache TV!”

“Yes!” Shiro was bubbly with excitement. “Did you know I almost had a mustache in college? But it didn’t grow in all the way.” His lip pooched out in an expression remarkably like his little brother’s.

“There there, lad.” Coran patted Shiro’s back comfortingly. “Not to be discouraging, but as fair warning, I tend to win a lot of rounds of Mustache TV. It’s because of this, you know.” Coran stroked his lustrous lip fur.

Coran had been proud of that mustache for as long as Hunk had known him. It was rare for a premenopausal male omega to be able to grow one at all, much less one so lavish as his was.

Daniel looked puzzled. “I don’t think there’s really winning at– ”

“I used to win at the eyeliner variation,” Shiro interrupted. He had a challenging glint in his eye. A pie-eyed challenging glint. “I was a legend at Halloween parties.”

“Is that so?” Coran’s pixilated game face was on.

It seemed the both of them believed that the most blotto player wins at drinking games. Hunk was learning many things on this night.

“Is this a game that one can play on the Penthouse Suite’s television?” Shinji asked.

“Yes,” Hunk interjected quickly, “it is.”

Shinji nodded at Hunk in solidarity. They were of a single mind: it was time to take this party within proximity to couches and beds before somebody passed out. If this crew was going to face off with Coran in a drinking game then that outcome was inevitable. Maybe they should try to pour enough water and juice back into Shiro to get him able to walk in a straight line before the rehearsal started, though.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Deep in the night, an orange Subaru rocketed down the interstate, four windows rolled down to release the lingering scent of bad incense and the ecstatic voices of four passengers as they shouted along to the lyrics blasting out of the stereo.

♬ “Baby but I are, I’m a staaar!” ♬

The stars above twinkled in silent accord.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“I must protest.” Coran crossed his arms, while on the television screen the opening credits of Justice League rolled out like a setup for the driest joke ever told. “That is not a real mustache, Shiro.”

“My choice of an artificial mustache is as valid as your natural-grown one.” Shiro’s breath puffed out the fabric over his lip as he spoke. He had looped his tie over his ears and tied it under his nose in a shoelace bow. “Since we are competing in both the mustache and eyeliner categories, it’s fair.”

He gestured at the TV, where sticky notes had been applied in the cut-out shapes of a handlebar mustache and cartoony swoops meant to represent eyeliner.

“Well then.” Coran stuck his finger right into an open jar of Nutella, ignoring the bewailing of the other men sprawled across the couch, and swiped two hazelnut stripes along the outer corner of each eye. “Now we are evenly matched.”

Shiro’s eyes, which he had somehow managed to line perfectly despite his deteriorating hand-to-eye coordination, narrowed dangerously. “Bring it.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“They wanted to play a drinking game where they have to drink every time they see a face with a mustache on the television?” To say that Haruka was not down with the plan was to understate the case. “And you let them?”

It was a small mercy that Omnia had already left by the time the groom’s party rolled back into the penthouse. Haruka was plenty intimidating all by herself, but Hunk was still glad he didn’t have to face all of the formidable women in the wedding party at the same time after he’d accidentally overseen the debauching of the groom. Heaven help them if Lance’s mother were to suddenly show up and see this.

“We thought it would be fine to let them watch a superhero film,” Shinji said, with a regretful glance behind him at the others pausing the movie to argue over whether they had actually just caught a glimpse of Henry Cavill’s CGI’d out mustache. “DC superheroes are usually so clean-shaven. I had no idea that Aquaman had whiskers and eyeliner now, or that this other thing would happen.”

“You couldn’t have guessed they’d view it as an additional challenge,” Hunk assured him. “Could’ve been worse. If we’d let them pick _Smokey and the Bandit_ they’d be hammered beyond redemption by now.”

“Some of them have to be in a rehearsal in less than an hour!” Haruka was not about to let them forget the main issue.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk said. “I got this.”

He had prepared a tray full of shooter glasses filled with a mixture of Rockstar Recovery and vitaminwater. He took the tray into the living room, where the others had decided that if they could tell that Superman’s upper lip was not natural that counted for a drink with no playing handicap, and also that if the sticky note mustache landed on Superman’s face that counted as two drinks for the players without mustaches and three drinks for the players with mustaches.

“Here we are fellas.” Hunk set the tray down on the coffee table. “Another round of vodka shooters!”

The guys cheered and fell upon the lemony beverages like a pride of lions. Hunk tried not to laugh. This was their second round of non-alcoholic shooters, and with any luck he’d be able to get another few rounds in them before one of them sobered up enough to realize that the vodka shooters they were copiously drinking tasted suspiciously vodka-free.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Over ten miles of open road with the windows rolled down had only blown a little of the scent of desiccated peaches and cream off of the team of merry pranksters. They had just made the turn-off from South Robertson onto Wilshire when they realized that something needed to be done.

“We can’t let Kuro go back to the Governor’s Suite smelling like this,” Keith fretted. “We could make a pit stop at home, but it’ll take us ten minutes out of our way and that’s not even counting time to shower and get back to the hotel.”

“We’ll be late,” Rachel said. “We’d better get our stories straight ‘cause Mamá is going to give us the third degree.”

“I do not wish to get the third degree.” Kuro had changed back out of the nightgown and tablecloth and tried to wipe off his makeup with tissues but he still had smears of it mostly on his neck, wrists and temples. “I like your mother, but that does not sound pleasant.”

“Let’s go up to the penthouse,” Lance suggested. “Kuro can use my shower. That way we can all still make curfew.”

So that’s what they did. Thanks to the lateness of the hour on a day when many were inclined to turn in early to prepare for a fresh start of the week, the lobby was relatively clear of people who could take offense to the smell wafting off of the group as they made for the elevator. Regris took them to the fourteenth floor while trying his best to breathe only through his mouth. Lance let them into the penthouse to find Hunk crossing the parlor with a tray of shot glasses full of liquid the color of citron.

“Hey hey hey, you’re back!” Hunk turned to them with a delighted smile until the air conditioning delivered the smell to his nose. “Whoa! What have you guys been– you know what? I don’t need the details. All I need to know is that you had fun.”

Keith grinned at Hunk, still on a victory high. “We had a blast, but now we need to get Kuro into a shower.”

Their conversation had attracted the attention of the other people in the penthouse. Haruka and Shinji peeked out of the kitchen, while Shiro toddled out of the living room and made a beeline for the newcomers.

“Lance, you’re home!” Shiro’s eyes were crinkled in a manner that revealed the big giggly smile which Lance found so irresistible whenever it made a rare appearance, but which he couldn’t see at the moment on account of there being fabric in the way.

“Why are you wearing your tie on your face?” Lance welcomed Shiro into his arms as he reached for the bow covering his lips. 

“It’s my mustache for Mustache TV,” Shiro said as Lance pulled it loose and revealed that wonderful smile, which turned into a moue of distress when he caught the smell rising off of the omega he was holding. “Oh no! Oh no, honey, what happened to your scent?” Shiro’s eyes welled with tears.

“It’s okay, querido,” Lance rubbed his wrist gland against Shiro’s jaw. Poor baby was drunker than Lance had ever seen him. “It’s just musty incense, that’s all.”

“Oh nooo.” Shiro’s eyes watered and squeezed shut, and Lance was afraid he was going to burst into tears. Instead what happened was that he made a sound like a cat coughing up a hairball and horked up a plume of puce-colored liquid all along Lance’s front.

It was a good thing he’d opted for an old jeans and t-shirt outfit for the night’s mischief.

“Oh no.” Hunk delicately placed his tray down on an end table. “I’m a sympathetic vomiter!” Then Hunk pelted for the guest powder room off the hall. 

“Sorry man, I gotta– ” Keith shrugged apologetically and took off after him.

“It’s all good,” Lance said. “Rachel, you know where my room is, right? Can you take Kuro back there?”

“You got it.” Rachel took Kuro’s arm and led him unprotesting down the hall.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lance said, stroking Shiro’s crestfallen face before leading him toward the master bedroom. 

He caught Haruka’s eye over Shiro’s shoulder, and she nodded, apparently satisfied with the way he’d just handled that situation, which was a nice change. If she had any opinions about Lance taking Shiro back to the bedroom in his not-yet-married state, she kept them to herself.

Lance led Shiro straight into the master suite’s walk-in shower fully clothed and set the thermostatic dials. When the water rained down to drench them in warmth, he methodically removed their soiled clothing; first Shiro’s, then his own. Then he gently washed Shiro head to toe with the toiletries provided by the hotel, and then washed himself. The fresh chypre scent gradually overtook the smells of sick and fust.

Shiro’s eyelashes glistened as he looked down at Lance. “I’m sorry.”

“For getting sick?” Lance wrapped damp arms around Shiro’s bare waist. “That’s not your fault.”

“It kind of is?” Shiro’s chin dipped guiltily. “I challenged Coran in a game he was born to win.”

Lance threw one arm over Shiro’s shoulder so he could rest his chin on his knuckles. “Did you at least have fun?”

Shiro’s boyish grin started to make a reappearance and Lance laughed. 

“What about you?” Shiro leaned back enough to look Lance in the eyes again. “What did you guys do that made you smell like you all rolled in garbage?”

“We played a prank.”

“You did?”

Lance nodded, a smile lifting his lips. “It was the best prank.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Lance gave him a prudently edited version, and Shiro laughed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You don’t have the do this babe.” Despite his words, Hunk leaned back into the embrace of the omega sitting behind him on the marble floor of the powder room. “I’m sure it’ll pass on its own.”

“Like hell.” Keith smoothed Hunk’s bangs back from his face and then secured it with one of those stretchy bands he kept in his pockets for tying back his own hair. “I’m sure ‘in sickness and in health’ is part of our vows, and I’m gonna expect you to hold up your end when it’s my turn.” His hands, cooled with water from the sink, felt good on Hunk’s hot face. “My smell’s not making it worse, is it?”

“Not at all.” Hunk closed his eyes as Keith continued to scoop his hair back into elastic bands. Underneath the lingering scent of turned incense, Keith’s wonderful akebia scent flowed tenacious and vibrant. “You smell fucking great.”

Hunk actually had a strong stomach for primary sensory input. He had to if he wanted to keep up with his family in the kitchen and explore the world of food to its fullest extent. Things like blood, gristle and pungent smells didn’t generally put him off. His stomach issues were mostly related to his kinesthetic and vestibular senses. However, his gut also reacted potently to emotional stimuli, which was why the sight of poor Shiro hurling all over a surprised Lance had– 

“Oh no, here it comes again.” Hunk leaned back over the toilet bowl.

“It’s alright babe.” Keith laid a comforting hand across the back of Hunk’s neck. “I got you.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“She’s so beautiful and smart.” Daniel reclined on the couch like a lovelorn courtier of a bygone era. “Why doesn’t she notice me?”

“Daniel.” Darrell leaned forward on his knees, trying to look authoritative. Omnia wasn’t here, so he’d have to serve in her place. “Don’t take it personally. I just don’t think she’s wired to notice the signals you’ve been sending.”

Daniel peeked out from under the arm he’d flung over his eyes. “Do you mean my gaydar is broken?”

“Your...” Darrell squeezed his temples. This kid seemed to be trying to accelerate his oncoming hangover. “No. I mean she’s somewhere on the graysexual spectrum.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Daniel tried to jackknife into a sitting position and overshot, listing slightly to port. “There’s a chance she could still fall in love with me?”

Spectacular. “Anything can happen.” Truthfully, Darrell hadn’t noticed any signs of Rachel being aromantic. Quite the opposite, actually. “She just may never want to sleep with you, and you’d better make peace with that possibility, hotshot.”

“Oh, to be young and in love!” Coran popped up suddenly beside Daniel and nearly gave Darrell a heart attack because he’d forgotten the guy was still in the room. “If you wish to be taken seriously as her swain, you must make a formal declaration of your intentions and prove your valor.”

“Yeah!” Daniel made victory fists and nearly lost his balance on the couch. “Prove my valor! Wait, how should I do that?”

“The traditional method would be to wrestle with a fearsome beast and bring back its teeth as proof of your devotion.” Coran patted Daniel on the shoulder. “You may want to get a hunting license first. Asking your sweetheart to spring you from lockup is not very romantic.”

“What beast would be fearsome enough, though?” Daniel mused. “A mountain lion? Killer robots? Maybe a giant spider! Dealing with giant spiders is like, ultimate proof of boyfriend worthiness. Where would I find a spider giant enough that I could wrestle with it?”

“Hey now.” Darrell raised his hands to stop that logic train at the station. “How about you just start with declaring your intentions?”

Then he could metaphorically wrestle with his potential future in-laws. Going a few rounds of ‘question the novio’ should be enough to test anyone’s mettle.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Kuro handed his clothes through the bathroom door to Rachel with no shame for his barely hidden nudity. “These are still stinky.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She took the smelly clothing from his hand so he could shut the door again.

Kuro thought she was very pretty, but her scent did not make his belly flutter like Keith’s mysterious cousin or that alpha with the glasses who sometimes stood behind the front desk, or the one from dinner tonight with the long pale hair. Rachel had a toasty scent that was comforting to be around. It reminded Kuro of rainy days when Hahaue used to make pearl barley tea to warm them both up.

Kuro tested the water already running in the shower. It was heated, so he stepped in and shut the door. Lance had a small but deep tub right next to the shower which looked awfully tempting, but Kuro probably didn’t have time for a soak, so he sighed and reached for the shampoo bottle left on the shower ledge. It wasn’t the hotel brand’s. Kuro opened the cap and smelled marine minerals, and decided he liked the scent well enough to try it on his hair.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Rachel found Haruka in the kitchen, administering a damp cool towel to Kai’s face as Shinji looked on in benevolent silence. All three looked up as Rachel rounded the hallway corner.

“I don’t suppose there’s a washing machine somewhere around here?” She held the smelly clothes aloft. Her own were probably smelly too, but she had gotten the impression that Mamá, as ferocious as she could be about some things, was not scary in the specific ways or circumstances that Kuro’s mother was capable of being scary.

“There’s no time to use the ultrasonic mini-washer on those,” Haruka said, “They won’t dry quickly enough. Here.” She reached under the sink and withdrew a folded laundry bag and a large trigger bottle of linen spray. “Spray them thoroughly and give them a good shake in the bag.”

“Sí, thank you.” Rachel took the offered items. She might put her own clothes in the bag too. Her hair would still smell, but the less stinky she was, the less Marco would tease her and try to drag the whole story out of her in front of Mamá. Because saying Mamá wasn’t as scary as Kuro’s mama was a relative thing.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance dashed down the hallway back to his room wearing one of the hotel’s cozy bathrobes. He scampered past the kitchen as fast as he could, since he had no idea if Haruka had guessed he was going to get naked in the shower with Shiro, nor did he care to find out and catch a lecture if she hadn’t. But really, how else could he be expected to get the both of them cleaned up? He opened his bedroom door to find Kuro and Rachel both in the process of putting on clothes that gave off a strong cedaresque fragrance.

“What up, fellow nekkid people,” Lance said as he closed the door behind him.

Kuro looked up and then said, “The ceiling.”

Lance stopped rifling through his luggage to stare over at the other omega. Kuro looked back at him deadpan with his shirt halfway over his head, before shrugging the rest of the way into the garment. In between fabric blocking a full view of Kuro’s face, a little cat smile appeared.

“Ah-hah!” Lance crowed. “You were messing with me, I see you grinning over there!”

Kuro giggled, sounding quite a lot like his older brother, while Rachel laughed. 

Someone knocked on the door, not as briskly as Haruka usually did. “Apologies for the interruption Lansu-san, but is Kuro-chan in there with you?” It was Shinji.

“I am here, Shinji-san.” Kuro was looking into the full-length mirror beside Lance’s bed and trying to flatten his towel-dried hair. It was not cooperating.

“Yokatta. I do not wish to infringe upon your skinship time, I merely wanted to inform you that I will be escorting you back to your room in approximately seven minutes.”

“Oh.” Kuro looked away from the mirror, which reflected his hair springing right back out as soon as his hands dropped to his sides. “Is Keith still busy with his alpha, then?”

“Kogane-san is– oh, Kogane-san is right here. Pardon me.”

There was a shuffling noise from outside the door and then Keith ducked into the room. “Hey man, can I use your shower like, double quick?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Lance stepped out of his way so he could get past him.

“Pass your clothes out through the door and I’ll deodorize them for you,” Rachel offered.

“Sweet!” Keith’s voice was slightly muffled as the bathroom door fell shut behind him. “Thanks!”

“Kuro-chan, I will return for you in six minutes.”

“Okay Shinji-san.” Kuro was trying to flatten his hair again and it was still defiantly fluffing back out as soon as his hands left his head. “My hair is so poufy!”

“Did you use the shampoo in the blue bottle?” Lance leaned forward to sniff at Kuro’s hair. It did smell like sea salt. “It’s got a texturizer in it that adds volume to imitate the effects of an ocean breeze.”

“Now you tell me!” Kuro’s bottom lip wobbled. “I have hair that tries to expand in any kind of weather. It is the Shirogane curse.”

So that’s why Shiro’s front floof was so floofy. It wasn’t the pomade, it was his genes. The pomade was probably just to tame it into that foxtail shape he usually wore it in.

“Don’t worry,” Lance said, “I can fix this.”

His own styling creme was probably not gonna cut it, though. Dressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt, Lance booked it barefoot to the master suite again. He found Shiro sitting on the bed in black slacks and a white button-down, staring at a striped tie in his hands like he was working up the strength to put it on. He’d tossed his cookies all over the last one, so his reluctance was understandable.

“Here, baby.” Lance reached into the open suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed for a soft sweater and tossed it over on his way into the master bath. “Just wear a v-neck, you don’t have to wear a tie for a midnight rehearsal.”

“Are you sure that’s not too casual?”

Lance found the black and white jar of Shiro’s hair dressing pomade on the bathroom counter and swiped it up. “I’m sure.” He returned to the bedroom and tipped Shiro’s head up for a kiss. “You make clothes look so good, you could probably even rock a popped collar if you really wanted to.” He dropped one last kiss on Shiro’s nose before sweeping out of the bedroom.

“Hey, where are you going with my hair dressing?”

“I’ll bring it back, I promise!”

When he bustled back into his own bedroom, Keith was half-out of the bathroom door handing Rachel his clothes. “Hey Lance, you got something I can co-wash with?”

“There’s some deep conditioner packets in the bag by the sink.”

“Rocking.” Keith disappeared back inside the bathroom.

“I wish I had known about the deep conditioner packets,” Kuro pouted.

“Come here, lindo niño.” Lance slung himself into the bedside chair cross-legged and patted the footstool in front of him. “Sit right here, I told you I was gonna fix it and I will.”

Kuro slouched onto the footstool and Lance starting finger combing through his hair to get a feel for it. He sure had a lot of it, almost as much as Rachel did. Lance opened the jar of pomade. It had a soft fragrance that reminded him of the violet water his mother had used on him and his siblings when they were children. He’d probably never noticed it on Shiro before due to his pheromones being strong enough to overpower it.

Lance dipped out a small scoop of pomade and began working it through Kuro’s thick hair. That hair, already prone to glossiness, began to shine like glass. When Lance smoothed it back away from Kuro’s face into a loose handheld ponytail, it flowed back as obediently as a river running to open water. What it did not do was lose volume. He could tease it into a bouffant or comb it into a pompadour except they were trying not to incite a reaction from Kuro’s mother.

“You’d look great with an undercut,” Lance commented idly as he lifted the hank of hair in his hands to check the fine line of vellus hairs at Kuro’s nape.

“Lance, that tickles!” Kuro squirmed on the footstool. “Do you mean like Ani’s? I am not allowed to cut my hair in any case.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Allura’s.” Lance had noticed it when she’d leaned back in her chair at dinner and lifted her hair into a loose bun before letting it fall again. When her hair was down the undercut became invisible. 

“That would look good,” Keith agreed as he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. “Lance, dude, you’re like, touching his figurative cleavage.”

“What?” Lance was confused. His hands were nowhere near Kuro’s disco tits. “I am not.”

“The nape of the neck is a temptation to alphas,” Kuro said. “So says Haha, and that is why he won’t let me cut my hair.”

“But,” Lance noticed now that Kuro’s neck was flushed, so he lowered the hank of hair again, “omega mating glands aren’t on the nape.”

Beta ones were. Offering all of the pain and only a fraction of the benefits, beta claiming bites were a common dramatic trope in soap operas but very rarely done in real life. Mostly because bites were traditionally reciprocal, and whenever a beta got their teeth into an alpha, it put the alpha at a temporary disadvantage that they tended to find quite uncomfortable.

“It’s considered provocative,” Keith said. He had dropped his towel and was now pulling his clothes out of the laundry bag buck naked. “Like décolletage.”

Keith would know better in this case. 

“Guess a top knot’s out, then,” Lance decided. “I’m gonna braid your hair.”

He got up to dig through his toiletry bag for some hair ties, and passed a few to Rachel on his way back out of the bathroom as she stood in front of the sink dousing her own hair with highly fragrant dry oil spray.

“Hey, pass me one of those, wouldja?” Keith had put his joggers and t-shirt back on and stood with his damp hair held back in a messy ponytail. "I used my last ones on Hunk's hair."

Lance passed him a hair tie and sat back down behind Kuro with just two hair ties left on his wrist. “Let’s see how inverted braids look,” he said, and he got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously folks. Don't try this prank at home. But if you want to play Mustache TV with Justice League I do highly recommend that.


	12. Pas d'Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely wedding day begins. Curtis has a little adventure. Kuro and Pidge meet cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, kudoing and commenting! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, luminiferousaether, Inoshi, old_pens, and Yo_buddy!
> 
> I'm sure that if Shiro's head of hair wasn't already white, Lance, Kuro and Keith would have definitely turned some grey before the end of this fic.

  
Luis had been skeptical when his sister had rushed them all into the back of her brother-in-law’s step van, insisting that there would be breakfast served on their early morning flight. The memory of those meager cookies while his children loudly mistranslated the in-flight movie would not soon leave his mind. The scatological humor of young children was a source of perplexity to Luis, as he remembered once sharing it but he no longer recalled why it had seemed so funny to him at the time. 

Now that he and his family were aboard the business class cabin en route non-stop to LAX, he was much reassured. He and Lisa had seats across the aisle from the kids, whose short legs could not reach the seats in front of them to kick the backs, not even if they slouched down as far as they could. He had visual confirmation of this, as he watched them both try and quickly give up.

“Here we are.” Their flight attendant rolled up and began passing over plates steaming with eggs and sausage and dishes gleaming with sliced fruit. “Would either of you care for some more coffee?”

“I would love some,” Luis said, as his wife chimed in her agreement. “Thank you.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The narrow-body airliner taxied down the runway at LaGuardia, its economy cabin packed to the gills. Curtis had been stuffed between two beefy alphas, both of whom had begun puffing out dominance pheromones almost immediately and didn’t show any signs of letting up soon. That’s alright though, because he only had to endure it for four more hours, then he’d be getting off the plane in another time zone.

Hopefully his connecting flight would have more than thirty inches of seat pitch. Sometimes being tall was not the cat’s pajamas.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“I can’t believe I tried to out-drink Coran.” Shiro had rolled out of the master suite that morning looking snuggly in lightweight fleece, with mirror shades on to hide what the previous night’s mischief had wrought. “I should’ve known he had a hollow leg when Moxilous called him ‘Coranic’ and asked if he wanted his usual.”

He stood next to Lance under an awning in front of the hotel as they waited for the valet to bring the Camaro around. Haruka had roused each of them at first light, plied them with strong coffee and avocado toast, and sent them out into the fresh new day to collect their marriage license. Lance was certain that Shiro would have preferred for Kai to be driving on this particular morning, but Kai would be needed to pick up the rest of Lance’s family from the airport, and they weren’t sure how long the wheels of bureaucracy were going to turn before they could leave the municipal building. So they were taking the Camaro.

There was a feeling bubbling up inside Lance that was hard to describe or contain, and it wasn’t just the remnants of Shiro’s hangover crossing the bond link. _Married, married, we’re getting married_. He was really getting married, to the most wonderful man, and it was today. He pinched himself hard enough to hurt. Yep, still real.

A shiny black Camaro, freshly washed, rolled up to the curb and the day valet, a tall skinny dude named Bii-Boh-Bi, jumped out. “Your ride has been fully detailed, sir!” he said to Shiro as he handed over the keys.

“Thank you, Bibbidi.” Shiro handed over a tip and stared at the keys in his hand as if they could magically turn into a footman who would drive the car. 

Lance held out his hands. “How about you let me drive?”

Shiro turned upon him a grateful sun-shaded smile. “You would do that for me?”

“Any time.” He’d have driven a Ford Pinto in bumper to bumper traffic to be rewarded with such a smile from Shiro. To drive a hot pony car with the hottest man he’d ever seen riding shotgun was no contest. 

Even when that hot man proceeded to turn down the sun visor and lever back the passenger’s chair while moaning that the air conditioner was too loud.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Alana stood back to examine her handiwork. She’d been tasked with putting together a two-tier wedding cake on very short notice, and she was quite pleased with her progress. Due to the quick turnaround time asked of her, she’d been given carte blanche on flavors, but she was aware that the groom was of Japanese descent, and the bride Cuban. Therefore, she’d felt confident that her guava chiffon recipe would be well-received. Also, she had all of the ingredients already on hand and she knew that a guava chiffon cake wouldn’t dry out while sitting on a table waiting for the cake serving ceremony to finally happen.

She’d made the tiers the previous day, brushed them in simple syrup before chilling them, and then gotten them torted and crumb-coated in vanilla buttercream before putting them back in the upright freezer overnight. That morning she’d begun thawing the cake while she had her coffee, then applied the final smooth coat of buttercream frosting and assembled the tiers using boba straw dowels and cake boards, and now she was considering her options for decorating it. Her clock was running down on adding any time-intensive flourishes like sugar paste flowers or fondant figures. Maybe a simpler garnish? She had no doubt that her son would be happy to supply some fruit or berries from the hotel’s kitchens if she were to ask, but then she’d worry about their juices bleeding through and staining the frosting before anybody had a chance to eat it.

Fruit frosting. That was it, that was the answer. Alana hastened over to the refrigerator. She still had some guava nectar left, and enough of the batch of buttercream frosting to fill a piping bag. She could whip up some guava frosting to pipe a bouquet of pink rosettes on the top tier and add a couple of rows on the bottom tier to better hide the cake boards.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Omnia stood in the florist’s shop across from the current fly in her ointment: a pony-tailed jackass named Joran.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to get any white butterfly lilies this late in the season,” he said, still so damn cheerful while telling her no. “If you’d asked me a couple weeks ago I could’ve set you up with plenty of those.”

“We only need enough for one bouquet.” She didn’t want to be that person who desperately asked a shopkeeper to look in the back, but she was nearing that point. Joran had been able to sell her some nice centerpieces to supplement what the hotel was providing, along with the gift bouquets, the baskets of fresh rose and dried lavender petals, and spray roses for nosegays. They could make do without extravagant flower arrangements, but if they could just get one thing exemplary, the bride’s bouquet would be ideal.

“Look, nobody around here still has the white butterflies for sale right now.” Joran went to his flower cooler and pulled out a bouquet frothing with red and cream blooms. “I got the red butterflies, which let me tell you they aren’t that easy to come by either, and I got plenty of white dendrobiums. You can still have a tropical bouquet, it just won’t be with the white butterflies.” At her hesitation, he added, “I’ll even throw in a few extra dendrobiums you can use for boutonnieres at no additional charge.”

“All right,” Omnia agreed, recognizing it was probably the best deal she was liable to get at the eleventh hour, and it was not a bad deal on the face of it. Orchids did tend to be expensive, so his willingness to use them to sweeten the pot implied proof of his sincerity about the availability of hedychium coronarium.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Kuro thanked his cousin for the cup of coffee which he rested on the low glass table near his work station sitting in seiza on the floor. He’d gotten up early, earlier even than Hahaue, and taken his new fabric and the sewing box out of his luggage to go to Shinji’s door and ask if he could work in his room. Shinji had graciously given him leave to do so. Kuro was making the first obi, using the glorious boon of extra fabric to give it an additional lining, and closing the seams with a rocking hand-stitch which his mother would have delighted in seeing from him. Or at least, he would until he learned who it was for.

The braids Lance had given Kuro held up well overnight, loosening only a little bit from messy sleep. Two braids flowed down from his temples to meet in a low infinity bun guarding Kuro’s nape like a little shield. Fixing the few errant strands could be accomplished simply by pinning them back into place with hana kanzashi. Hahaue had begrudgingly complimented the hairdo when he’d seen it, assuming Keith had done it. Kuro saw no reason to correct him on the matter.

Hahaue had been behaving in an unusually reflective manner since the previous evening. Kuro did not know why and had no wish to provoke a return of his mother’s hyper-vigilant ways. He wanted to finish Lance’s obi before the ceremony, if at all possible, and he really hoped he had a chance to finish Keith’s as well before they returned to Matsumoto. Otherwise he’d have to send it through international parcel post, and who knows how long he would have to wait to get Hahaue in an agreeable mood to let him visit the post office?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“This has become a habit between us.” Tatsuo emerged from the master bedroom in his yukata and approached the table where Shinji was directing Farla to unload covered breakfast trays.

“I thought you might appreciate a familiar start to the day,” Shinji replied, removing a silver dome to reveal grilled tuna. “I am informed there will be a rather large contingent of Cubans at the reception, so much of the cuisine has been selected with this in mind.”

“No sekihan?” Tatsuo raised on eyebrow as he accepted a warmed plate from Shinji’s hands.

“There will be red beans with rice,” Shinji said, “but they will not be adzuki beans. I suspect that we would see sekihan on the reception menu if we were to stay for Kogane-san’s wedding.”

“I was not aware that we were invited to that wedding.” Tatsuo began to load his plate as Shinji thanked Farla with a nod and a tip.

“I have been extended an invitation for myself and a guest of my choosing.” Shinji began to pour the coffee. “I had intended to accept, and I am certain that Kuro-chan will be invited as well. He is quite fond of Kogane-san, and the sentiment seems to be mutual.”

“I had noticed.” Tatsuo sat with his filled breakfast plate. “It is possible that a few extra days to think would not be time misspent.”

Shinji hoped he would still feel that way after he learned that Keith was close friends with Shiro’s bride. Tatsuo was many things, but stupid he was not. Once he saw who else was in the wedding party it would be no difficulty for him to deduce that time recently spent in Keith’s company may also have been time spent in Lance’s.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The second floor of the courthouse was a bit surreal to Shiro. They’d passed by several couples in wedding finery milling around in the hallway, either enjoying a moment after their courthouse ceremony or waiting their turn for the thirty minute appointment. All of that floor was dedicated to marriage licenses and civil ceremonies, with traffic citations and other civil matters relegated to different floors. The cordoned-off line to the marriage license booth was a little closer to what he’d been expecting, except for the fact that they’d waited in that line behind two women in white lacy dresses, with another waiting behind them alongside a man in a white suit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use our chapel?” The sleepy-eyed older beta passed their I.D.’s back across the counter. “We have seating for up to twenty-five guests.”

If only Shiro had known that before he’d had to practice walking across a rooftop while still half-drunk. “Thank you for the offer, but we’ve already got that part covered.”

“Never hurts to ask.” The beta shrugged and passed over the marriage license. “Bring this back within ten days after the wedding so we can file it for you, and congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Shiro gratefully accepted the document and squeezed his other arm around Lance, who gazed up at him with an excitement that Shiro could feel across the bond like fireworks. 

On this very day their bond would be sealed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Forget about it, all flights are cancelled until the weather clears. Even the buses and trains stopped picking up passengers to wait it out. ”

_♬ Please come to Denver with the snowfall ♬_

The canned music intended to calm frustrated travelers sounded mocking to Curtis’s ears.

“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “I have to get to Los Angeles. A man’s future is at stake!”

It seemed that the ticket agent, a round-shouldered fellow with a beaky nose and a name tag that read Burr, had a disposition as chilly as his name. “Listen pal, do you think I enjoy standing here trying to explain the obvious to every sob story who turns up at this desk? If the weather was clear, we’d have planes in the air. The weather’s not clear, look outside, it’s a whiteout!”

Curtis looked outside. It was as if some mystical being had taken a rubber eraser to the world, such was the lack of visibility. But he was not ready to give up. “There must be some way out of here.”

“If you can find a car rental agent irresponsible enough to let you drive out of here on black ice, sure I suppose.”

Curtis hiked his carry-on over his shoulder and set out to find that irresponsible rental agent.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Omnia inspected the banquet setup as she assisted Alana Garrett with carefully removing the wedding cake from the artfully taped box she’d used to transport it. Thanks to Joran’s gift of extra orchids, she’d decided to put the spray roses in cups of water to decorate the banquet and gift tables, which turned out to be a good call, as they were a shade of pink that almost exactly matched the rosettes on the cake. The bridal akito roses supplied by the hotel and the red rose centerpiece arrangements provided by Joran were dispersed throughout the other rooms in the suite, creating an overall harmonious effect that Omnia hoped would appear like they did it on purpose and not the happy accident that it actually was. The glass hurricane lanterns had been a last-minute addition at Haruka’s suggestion which she had to admit looked very nice and would look even better once they were giving off light.

If only she could have found the species of butterfly lilies that the bride’s natural scent mimicked. The red ones Joran had sold her were gorgeous and would match well with the rubies in his courting necklace, but they carried almost no scent of their own. The orchids would be the primary fragrance-carrying flower among the entire wedding party. Omnia hoped her boss would like their fresh smell reminiscent of strawberries nearly as well as she knew he’d have liked white ginger lilies.

“Omnia?” Haruka stepped in from the hallway. As the officiant she would need to excuse herself soon to get ready for the ceremony, but she couldn’t stay away from supervising the hotel workers completing setup of the space any more than Omnia could. “Omnia, there is a man named Joran here asking for you.”

“Is he? I wonder what he needs.” Omnia took a moment to compliment Alana on the lovely cake before following Haruka back to the suite’s grand foyer. She was certain she’d already received the entire order from Joran’s shop, but perhaps she’d overlooked something. Although it seemed unlikely.

“Hey there.” Sure enough, there stood Joran in the sparkling foyer, smiling like he had great news. “I found something for you.” He held a canvas bag in his arms, with a bit of greenery poking out of the top.

Could it be? “Did you really find it?”

“I did!” Joran looked fit to burst. “Turns out one of my growers had a pot that he couldn’t transplant on schedule because it unexpectedly went into flower. He was going to wait, but I convinced him to let me sell it, pot and all.” Joran loosened the drawstring on the bag to reveal white fragrant flowers shaped like butterfly wings. “Sure would be nice if you’d keep the plant alive and not just take the flowers.”

“Oh Joran, thank you so much.” Omnia would happily sing this man’s praises to any review site in existence. She was sorry for ever thinking he was a jackass. “This means so much to us. They smell almost exactly like the bride. Of course we’ll keep the plant alive.”

“If only we could plant it in the garden at home,” Haruka said, admiring the blooms. “They would look beautiful alongside the camellias, but I’m afraid it would have to be an indoor plant if it came home with us.”

“We can give the plant to Lance’s mother,” Omnia decided. “She’ll be returning to Miami with her older children this week, a tropical plant should do well there.”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Haruka agreed. “This is even better than the bouquets we chose for the parents’ gifts.”

Vibiana would return to Miami with a memento that would remind her of her youngest every time she caught its distinctive scent. She would have to take it as carry-on luggage, though.

“Joran, we may need to purchase a bag from you like the one you brought the plant over in.”

Joran smiled. “I was prepared to sell you this one right here. See? I got you covered.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Adam let himself into the fourth-floor walk-up located on a quiet street in Kip’s Bay. Conveniently, the kitchen was the first room he encountered in the one-bedroom apartment. He would just find a glass to fill with water, perform his voluntold chore, and leave. He had absolutely no reason to investigate Curtis’s bedroom or check out what shampoo he used like a creeper. The only creeper in this ~~relatio~~ – ~~partne~~ r– whatever was Curtis.

He would not even be in Curtis’s apartment to begin with if he’d had his druthers. Curtis had shown up at a borderline inappropriate hour of the morning begging Adam to accompany him on his ill-advised quest to California. Adam had of course said no. _“It’s a lunatic plan, and I will not be a party to it.”_ Then Curtis had followed that up with the equally ludicrous request that Adam water his plants while he was gone, and tried to give him a key to his apartment, and that’s when Adam’s mother had mysteriously arrived like the Blue Fairy to accept the task and the keys on Adam’s behalf.

Curtis had handed over the keys and sallied out to dream the impossible dream. When Adam turned to his mother to ask her what the hell was wrong with her, she’d only replied, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while,” and then cajoled Great Uncle Ubal into taking his Plymouth DeLuxe out of the valet parking garage to escort Adam over to Curtis’s place. Ubal was presently parked down on the street below, content to wait with a coffee and the morning paper.

Curtis’s kitchen was so small it was almost a kitchenette, his refrigerator awkwardly fitted into a recess in the wall that looked like it had been originally molded to fit an ice box cabinet. Adam walked past the fridge and opened the cabinets over the sink in search of a tall glass. What he found was a small selection of milk glass, including a pitcher. They were all squeaky clean, and when Adam took the pitcher down from the cabinet he noticed it smelled like the lemon fresh dishwashing liquid that stood ready for duty on the edge of the sink.

It wasn’t the milk glass that was so much a surprise find as where it had been hidden. Curtis seemed like the type of man to live a scholarly bachelor’s life, which tracked with the meager real estate of his kitchen. Such a man would stereotypically possess the least fussy microwave-proof ceramics available to purchase by catalog order. However, Curtis made his living as an antiques dealer, carving out a niche for himself as a specialist in folk art. It was not out of character for him to collect vintage dishware, although it seemed a bit odd that he had it stored in his cabinets as if he were using it for its original intended purpose, instead of displayed in a curio case as most collectors would have done.

Well, far be it from Adam to judge the man for wanting to take his milk and cookies like a little old omega. If he was using these dishes to actually eat and drink out of, then surely it wouldn’t be a bridge too far to use this pitcher to water some plants. Come to think of it though, there was no microwave in that postage stamp sized kitchen unless Curtis was anal-retentive enough to store it in a cupboard when he wasn’t using it. Adam was not going to further investigate the cupboards to find out if he would really do that. Was it possible that Curtis actually could cook, or was he the sort whose idea of adulting was a thriving delivery service account? Adam refused to look in the refrigerator to satisfy his curiosity on that point either.

He filled the pitcher in the sink and strode resolutely past an art nouveau dining set that resembled four exclamation points gathered around a period, walking through a cased opening into the living room. The floor was covered nearly wall to wall with a huge area rug, its botanical motif faded and weathered nearly to a uniform golden color, which provided a warm and fuzzy backdrop to the room’s mid-century modern furnishings. Paintings on canvas brought brighter colors into the room, framed with an eye toward noninterference with their aesthetic. Adam didn’t recognize the pieces, but he saw the appeal in their unvarnished symbolism, as Curtis surely also had when he’d chosen them. The center of the room was taken up by a large pallet coffee table, the better to showcase bronze abstract sculptures, Talavera pottery, and the object of Adam’s current errand: a healthy potted pothos climbing a small wire-framed trellis.

Adam touched the topsoil of the houseplant to ensure he wouldn’t over-water before deciding it could do with a sprinkle. Well. That was over with awfully fast. Adam made another circuit of the room. Hadn’t Curtis said he had plants, plural?

There were no other plants in the kitchen or living room, leaving Adam with little choice but to explore further into the empty apartment. Now that he was here, he couldn’t very well let a plant go thirsty, it wouldn’t be right. Personal mission accepted, he stepped into the bedroom. This room had the best light of any room thus far, having the benefit of the largest casement windows in the whole place.

Curtis had elected to leave the polished cherry floors bare in there, and just strewn his wool mattress and assorted floor pillows across it like a proper bohemian. An alpaca throw blanket was tossed over the rumpled duvet with a copy of Paul Coelho’s _The Alchemist_ resting in its folds as if its owner had just gotten up for a drink of water and would be back any minute. Rather than place framed art in this room, Curtis seemed to be in the process of turning an entire wall into a mural of leafy reaching branches, twining vines and fantastically blooming flowers. The drop cloth and paint-dusted work bench next to the wall indicated strongly that this remained a work in progress. Unless Curtis had an artist lover he hadn’t mentioned before (and if that was the case why would he be perpetually chasing Shiro) then the artist responsible for this expression of yearning for an unseen sun could only be Curtis himself.

Adam wasn’t sure how long he stood there absorbed in the mural before he remembered to water the heart-leaf philodendron curling over the windowsill.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
With marriage license in hand, Lance and Shiro had been greeted by their respective honor attendants in the hotel lobby. Shinji, not yet dressed for the ceremony, announced his intentions to accompany Shiro to the penthouse to help him get ready. Keith was already dressed and looked red hot in his carnelian suit over an ivory button-down shirt. Seriously, Hunk’s tongue would probably roll out of his mouth and follow Keith down the aisle once he got a load of that outfit, if he hadn’t already. If he had, then Lance was sorry he’d missed that reaction.

The duos boarded the Beverly wing elevator together but parted company at the tenth floor, where Keith and Lance disembarked. “Your folks are here,” Keith said as he led Lance down the hall toward the suite where his mother and sister were staying. The words were barely out of his mouth before two miniature whirlwinds rounded the corner to barrel into them.

“¡Tío Lance!”

“Oh my gosh, you two got so big!” Lance hugged his niece and nephew, smelling violet water in their hair, and felt a wave of nostalgia so strong it could have knocked him down if not for Keith’s firm grip on his shoulder to keep him grounded.

“¡No corras!” Another familiar figure careened around the corner in hot pursuit of the little hellions. “Was it only yesterday that you two promised me– ” Veronica stopped short when she saw where Nadia and Sylvio had gotten to. “Lancito.” She opened out her arms. “Come give me a hug, you little shit.”

“Vero.” Lance stumbled into her embrace and she squeezed him tight, rubbing her cheek against his hair. Scenting him, and not being even a little bit subtle about it, because Veronica never had any use for subtleties. Her canella scent was still as sweetly peppery as he remembered.

Big warm arms wrapped around both of them as Luis joined them, his woody cascarilla scent enveloping them as well. “It’s good to see you, hermanito.” Then Luis proceeded to scent him too, causing Lance to chirrup in touched surprise.

One thing the Fernández household had always had plenty of to go around was fierce love and loyalty. That said, Lance had tended to enjoy a mellower sibling relationship with Marco and Rachel while growing up. They had been preschool-aged when their mother uprooted the family from their father’s hometown, so young that they only had impressionistic memories of their father and the fishing village where they’d been born. Their foundational memories were largely of Varadero, and the maternal grandparents who adored them and had been so grateful to have them back in their lives.

Not so Luis and Veronica, who had been taken out of primary school and away from their first non-familial friendships. They had been old enough to remember their father and their hometown, and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if they’d also been old enough to suspect his true parentage long before Vibiana had decided to unburden the secret to her family. They would come to Lance’s defense as readily as any of his other family members whenever some ruffian in the neighborhood tried to take a cheap shot at his supposed origins, but there had also been an ‘us against the world’ thing that was just between Luis and Veronica. For a long time it had been that way, unspoken but no less felt, until Luis started courting Lisa and began to smile more often, including more people in that warmth he’d held inside. Then Veronica met Dorma and she too began to put down her emotional armor, but by that point Lance had already learned the truth and nothing could have stopped him from attempting to find his biological father.

But that was all in the past. Now, Lance stood in a hotel hallway and let his eldest alpha siblings scent him as they allowed him to scent them in turn.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“I’ll buy the damn car if that’s what it takes to get one right here and now.” 

Curtis leaned across the chest-high counter to emphasize his sincerity to the car rental agent, a short skinny beta in a puffer jacket whose facial hair was in desperate need of some grooming. This Vakala person was his last best hope. All of the other car rental counters were either closed or said no to the point where they threatened to have Curtis removed from the premises if he wouldn’t leave on his own.

“There’s no need for that,” Vakala said, thumping a stack of paperwork onto the counter. “Just sign right here.”

“Thank you so much!” Curtis picked up the counter pen, unwilling to let this chance go despite common sense telling him that maybe he ought to read what he was signing first. “Um, not that I’m not grateful or anything, but what’s in this contract?”

“Oh, just waiving us from any financial responsibility for you if you wrap the car around a tree,” Vakala said. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Right, okay.” That didn’t sound unreasonable under the circumstances.

“Now let’s get your deposit out of the way so you can be on your way.” Vakala whisked away the freshly-signed paperwork and replaced it with a credit card machine. “We don’t take debit.”

“That’s fine.” Curtis’s small business credit card carried excellent travel insurance.

“Great!” Vakala’s eyes lit up as the deposit was authorized. “Remdax here will bring the car around to the front for you.”

Remdax was a hulking alpha in a fleece-lined coat who lowered ski goggles over his face before stepping out into the blustery half-light. Curtis’s instincts were starting to catch up with his mission-focused mind.

“You didn’t just rent me a lemon, did you?” He needed this car to make it at least as far as Grand Junction, where he hoped to be able to pick up another flight to L.A.

“Nah, the car runs fine,” Vakala insisted. “Just don’t try to get in on the passenger’s side and you’ll be good.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The bathrooms in the suite that Lance’s mother had been given to share with Rachel were nowhere near the size of the penthouse’s master bath, but they were bigger than Lance’s bathroom, with large jetted tubs and small dressing alcoves. Lance had just bathed in one of those tubs, and now stood in a dressing alcove rolling up his new stockings to attach them to his undergarment with loop-and-button clips. Graysen had sold him a modesty shaper with attached garters so as to smooth his silhouette under the frock. Lance still remembered Maestro Hepta at the secondary school in Cárdenas drilling the male omegas in his clothing etiquette class on the particulars of the refined silhouette. _“One should only see a pleasantly rounded shape underneath your clothes, not be able to count every vein!”_

Lance had pretty much done the opposite of anything Maestro Hepta ever told him to do when dressing for the streets. He slid the slippers on his feet and tied the ribbons around his ankles, straightening to look at himself in the mirror. He was the very picture of a proper male omega at his toilette. Of course, under the spruced-up surface he was anything but. Shiro knew all of that, and still wanted to be with him.

“Hey Lance, I’ve got your frock and Kuro’s here to help with your veil. You ready?”

Lance stepped over to the door to let Keith and Kuro in. “I’m ready.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ Love’s been a little bit hard on me ♬_

Curtis hunched over the steering wheel of the tiny Nissan hatchback, too petrified to properly appreciate the clarity of the singer’s vocals or the majestic lines of spruce and fir extending away on either side of the car and disappearing into an endless void of gray nothingness. What the hell was he doing out here? He should be at home with a tub of pistachio ice cream drowning his disappointment in Lifetime movies, not inching down frozen asphalt in a car that was crunched in on one side and had a tendency to drift to the right. He wasn’t even sure if his wheels were making full contact with the road and was afraid that if he saw headlights or brake lights ahead he wouldn’t have time to stop.

Should he just try to stop and wait out the worst of the weather? But where would he pull over? He couldn’t even tell for sure where the shoulder of the road was! The only reason he could be certain that he was still on a road was because the little car icon on the in-dash GPS told him so.

“Buck up Curt.” Curtis’s fingers clenched around the vibrating steering wheel. “You’re doing this for Shiro and Adam, remember that.” 

Curtis had finally come to perceive that he could only ever hope to admire Shiro from afar, as was true with so many works of genius whether created by man or nature. But Adam was something special, a person whose scintillation did not fall apart at close viewing. He was extraordinary. Shiro just needed to realize that and stop searching for love in all the wrong places, and when he did they could be so happy. Everything could still work out fine.

“Besides, the GPS still works.” 

As did the radio. Maybe he should try singing along to ease his tension. The radio was tuned to a station playing NOAA updates in between preset easy listening playlists. Sometime while Curtis was having a mini freakout and giving himself a subsequent pep talk the playlist had switched over to another track.

_♬ And the pony she named Wildfire busted down its stall ♬_

Headlights loomed suddenly in the dimness, way too high to be another car. Curtis’s gut clenched as those headlights seemed to peel in his direction. Whoever was driving the other vehicle laid on the horn and Curtis reflexively jerked the wheel to the right. The car spun out as his scream joined the song.

_♬ She ran calling Wildfire ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” 

Part of the deal struck with Great Uncle Ubal for his chaperoning services had been agreeing to accompany him to his favorite deli near Madison Square Park after the errand was complete. Uncle Ubal liked to dine out and he didn’t like to dine alone. Adam watched him tuck his long beard into his shirt in preparation for tucking into his hot tongue sandwich, which he insisted was a long lost delicacy every time they came to this place.

“I think I’m good here, but I’ll take your word for it,” Adam said, and tipped some cream into his mug of coffee so that he could try to glance down at his phone without being obvious about it. His own pastrami on rye sat before him barely touched. He’d sent pictures of the watered plants to Curtis to prove he’d accomplished his unwanted task, surely the jerk could at least text back ‘thanks.’

“Nephew!” Ubal squirted more mustard on his sandwich. “Just call him already and get it over with so we can enjoy our meal!”

So much for not being obvious. “Fine, fine.” Adam glanced around the crowded back seating area before bringing the phone to his ear. They were surrounded by old-timers who would think nothing of taking him to task for being rude enough to make a phone call at the table, but there were also plenty of tourists among them busily uploading pictures of their food to their social media accounts, so maybe the old-timers would just leave it at judgmental stares and spare him the lectures.

Much to Adam’s surprise, Curtis picked up almost at once. _“Adam!”_ Was he crying? _“Adam I failed!”_

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Shiro was like a runaway mustang when his mind was made up about something: there would be no change of course without a fight, and honestly, Shiro usually won those fights by default because there was only so much a reasonable person could be expected to stand there and tolerate. “Just get back on a plane and come on home.”

_“I can’t!”_ There was some sort of whooshing noise filtering through from the background.

“Why not?”

_“I’m lost in a blizzard!”_

The whooshing noises took on a more ominous timbre, like the wind in an old dark house movie. “Where are you?”

_“I’m just outside of Denver, with the snowfall.”_ Then he laughed with an edge that sounded manic. 

Was he succumbing to hypothermia? Oh God, how long before he started trying to take off all his clothes and run out into the snow?

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, I’m going to get you help.” Adam switched his phone to speaker and looked across the table at Ubal, who was chewing while eavesdropping. “I need your phone.”

“Sure.” Ubal dragged his cell phone out of the pocket of his red woolen cardigan and passed it over. It was a Jitterbug that Ubal only carried under duress after he got stranded in a community center during a blackout and nobody could find him for hours.

“Thank you Uncle, please talk to him while I do this.” Adam traded his phone for Ubal’s.

“Okay.” He held the phone up to his face. “What are your intentions toward my grandnephew?”

“Uncle Ubal!”

_“I only want the best for Adam because he deserves the best, because he messes me up inside, you know? And I was trying to give him the best but then I went off the road and now I might never be able to make sure he’s happy!”_

What? The. FUCK.

“He might be a keeper but he needs to be brought in from the wilds,” Ubal said to Adam without bothering to mute the phone. The fact that he probably didn’t know how to mute the phone was a slim defense.

Adam matched Ubal arched eyebrow for arched eyebrow. He knew damn well his great uncle wasn’t referring to the literal situation unfolding right in front of his sandwich.

“He can’t be too far in the wilds or he wouldn’t have a cell phone signal,” Adam pointed out, before using Ubal’s phone to contact the Colorado highway patrol. 

After some explaining with a dispatch officer, a three-way call with a Denver County sheriff’s deputy, and an emergency services operator breaking into the open call between Adam’s phone and Curtis’s, help was assured to be on the way. Meanwhile, their little table for two was attracting an audience of curious bystanders.

_“You need to keep talking to us, Curtis,”_ said the emergency operator.

_“I don’t know what to talk about.”_ Curtis was starting to sound worryingly maundering.

“Sing Adam a song,” Ubal suggested.

“Uncle– ”

_♪ “You fill up my senses like a night in a forest” ♪_

Curtis’s singing voice was rich and warm, the notes beautifully sustained considering he was freezing to the point where his teeth must want to chatter.

“Hey, I know this one,” Ubal said, eliciting agreement from some of the other diners who had abandoned their meals to lean closer to their table.

While they waited for first responders to arrive on the scene, Curtis continued to serenade Adam by the light of a cell phone as a delicatessen full of elderly backup singers joined in.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Kuro had completed Lance’s obi, which he wrapped in the furoshiki that Aniue had used for his omiyage. As they moved through the rooms prepared for the wedding celebration, Cousin Shinji directed Kuro on where to place the gift. A round table had been dressed up in white cloth and pink roses, with a book laid open to record the good will of the guests. Kuro signed the book and added his gift to the tidy pile on the table before Shinji escorted him out onto the terrace where the ceremony was to take place.

Fluffy white clouds whorled in the blue sky overhead, the temperature still mild from an early morning drizzle. Directly ahead, a white carpet runner led to a gate with flowers draped all across the top of it. Small chairs had been set up in an array of auspicious asymmetry along either side of the carpet runner. Hahaue would not have willingly lent his expertise to this function, so it must have been Haruka-san’s doing.

To the left, the chairs had been arranged with three in the front row, five in the middle, and two in the back, all angled in such a way as to make it easy for the audience members to take in both aisle and altar simply by turning their heads. Allura and Shay sat in the last row’s two seats, both elegant in long dresses the color of bluebells, with their instruments at the ready and music stands before them. Kuro was intrigued by the musicians and hoped he would get an opportunity to speak with them again later. They nodded and smiled at him and he returned their silent greetings as Shinji guided him further down the aisle. 

The left side middle row was taken up by Lance’s alpha siblings and their mates, with the beta brother Marco in the aisle seat, while Rachel sat in the farthest front row seat. The alpha siblings regarded Kuro with frank curiosity, while Marco smiled and waved. Rachel also smiled and nodded, and Kuro returned their greetings as well. He supposed he must be a remarkable sight to behold in the colorful furisode his mother had let him wear, with its long trailing sleeves and the standing arrow knot a sumptuous slope across his back. Even at home he would have attracted some attention dressed this way, which was why Hahaue seldom allowed him to do it, except that his pride would not permit his child to go before Aniue’s in-laws looking anything less than astonishing. 

To the right of the carpet runner, the chairs had been set up at a similar angle, with two in the front row, three in the middle and five in the back. The back row was filled with familiar faces from the house of Shirogane, along with a persimmon-haired omega whose mustachioed face was unfamiliar to Kuro. He did recognize the fox-haired omega sitting in the middle row, however. Matthew Holt offered a friendly smile as Kuro was led to the front row, as it would seem that farthest front seat was for him. Matthew was dressed in the sort of three-piece suit Aniue often wore, except without a tie. His hair was even longer than the last time Kuro had seen him, neatly gathered away from his neck so that his claim mark peeked out from behind a courting necklace of silver and gold.

“Kuro-chan, you remember Matthew-san,” Shinji said quietly as he guided Kuro to his chair in front of Matthew’s. “And of course you have met Garrett-san.” 

Keith’s betrothed was the occupant of the nearest chair to the aisle in the middle row. He acknowledged Kuro with a nod and a smile.

“And in between them is Matthew-san’s sister, Pagu-san.”

“It’s Pidge,” the sister corrected him with a nonchalant swiftness that announced her as alpha even before her scent reached Kuro’s nose. “Hi.”

“Hello, Pidgu-san.” Kuro turned in his chair to greet her properly, and then he truly caught her scent. Like a secret orchard of untouched mikan, with ripe globes of sun-warmed gold descending from the branches ready to fall.

It was by this point no longer shocking to Kuro that he found the scent of female alphas entrancing, but this one was so fresh and juicy it set his senses alight with an emotion he had never experienced before. The scent’s owner was unquestionably related to Matthew, with similar fox-colored hair worn much shorter around similarly petite features. Large amber eyes very much like her brother’s took in Kuro with a fascination that he realized was a reflection of his own.

“Adding a vowel to the end of a name makes the honorific roll off the tongue more fluidly,” Matthew was explaining to his sister as she continued to stare back at Kuro.

“Oh, he can call me anything he wants,” Pidge said in a low voice with a bit of a rumble to it.

“I am only seventeen,” Kuro warned her quickly even as he felt the flush warm his cheeks.

A beguiling grin stole across Pidge’s small pretty face. “So am I.”

“Oh my goodness,” Matthew said.

“I will return shortly with your Okaa-san,” Shinji promised with a twinkle in his eye, “I trust that you will be safe here with Matthew-san and his lovely sister to watch over you for a few minutes.” Then he was off, without even admonishing anyone to mind their decorum first. 

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance might have found it amusing, but Shiro had in fact packed one of his tuxedos. Hunk’s wedding invitation called for ‘festive attire,’ the most confounding of all dress codes. Shiro had decided that the single-button notch-collar tux in charcoal grey would cover a multitude of expectations that could possibly arise at a daytime wedding in a ballroom. He had not expected to be wearing it to his own wedding, but it was fortuitous that he had it in his luggage; as if a cosmic blessing had been bestowed before he’d even known to ask.

Unable to request assistance from Lance due to the tradition of not seeing the bride’s frock before the wedding, Shiro had allowed Haruka to help him affix a white orchid boutonniere to his left lapel. She had dressed for the occasion in a scarlet blazer with matching dress trousers that was not an exact color match to the suit he’d seen Keith wearing, but close enough to go with the theme she’d coordinated with Omnia. Everyone had gone full out putting this thing together in less than forty-eight hours. Shiro had the best supporters a man could ever ask for.

“You would have looked very dignified in montsuki,” Haruka sighed, as she patted his lapel back into alignment.

Shiro placed a hand over hers. “There will be other occasions when I may be called upon to wear montsuki, and I will make sure to be ready for them when they come.” He did not need to ask Tatsuo’s permission to use the family crest if he commissioned entirely new garments. He regretted leaving that task undone for so long while he wallowed in old resentments. “Perhaps we can plan to have tea in the garden when Spring returns.”

“That would be lovely.” Haruka perked up. A full tea ceremony in the garden was not a casual affair. Haruka would be in her glory. “We will need to acquire tomesode for Lance to wear.”

“Of course we will,” Shiro agreed fondly. “He’ll be married to me, so he’ll need the proper ceremonial dress for formal occasions.” He’d need guidance on how to put it on, too.

Their little accord for the future was interrupted by the arrival of Tatsuo wearing a kurotomesode with a motif of the seven flowers of autumn below the obi line, the yūzen-dyed garden stunningly colorful against the backdrop of matte black. The Shirogane crest in full sun design decorated his chest and sleeves, and when he turned Shiro had no doubt that one more would be visible on his upper back. Tatsuo might not have expected to attend a wedding, but he’d packed finery in case of a formal situation regardless. Perhaps he’d anticipated crashing a yuino.

Haruka greeted Tatsuo in a respectful manner while Tatsuo and Shiro regarded one another like participants at a poker championship as they all stood together in the Royal Suite’s library, which they’d been using as an impromptu staging area. Knowing Tatsuo’s history cast a lot of his actions in a different light, but Shiro was aware that such knowledge represented no guarantee he wouldn’t rake his claws again if he felt threatened. Metaphorically or literally.

Shinji ducked into the room in time to prevent either of them from breaking the verbal cease-fire. Like Shiro, he was dressed in Western style formalwear, though his had flourishes that strongly indicated it had been made to measure in Tokyo. The two-button suit was a deep matte black most likely accomplished using the same dying process as that which lent Tatsuo’s kurotomesode its uniquely deep luster. The shirt and tie were both of the same snow-white sheen, creating a subtle demarcation which invited the eye to look for the shadows of the tie’s intricate folds in order to differentiate it from the shirt.

“Shall we proceed?” Shinji asked, holding out his right arm to Tatsuo.

“What am I proceeding with?” Tatsuo asked with a touch of frost to his tone, though he accepted Shinji’s arm regardless.

“It is the honor of the couple’s parents to be seated at the start of the processional,” Shinji replied evenly.

If they’d been adhering strictly to tradition it would be the bride’s mother alone receiving this honor, but they’d decided during the rehearsal that Shinji escorting Tatsuo down the aisle first would be a convenient cue for Allura and Shay to start the music, as well as reducing opportunities for Tatsuo to instigate any dust-ups among the dearly beloved.

“Very well.” Tatsuo allowed Shinji to guide him out of the library.

“That’s my cue as well,” Haruka said, as she was meant to take her position after Shinji walked Tatsuo to his seat.

Shiro followed her out of the library and watched her hustle into the foyer. When she returned, she had most of the wedding party in tow, save Lance and Darrell. They must have been waiting in the hall for her to come and fetch them. There was a little boy in a sky blue suit and a little girl in a lace-embellished dress of rose pink. Then there was Keith with Vibiana, who wore a velvet wrap dress in a shade of red so close to Keith’s suit that it took a sharp eye to spot the slight shade variation.

Vibiana walked right up to Shiro and took his face in her hands. “You look so handsome.” She was beaming with happiness, and Shiro was glad.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant that for much more than just the compliment. “You all look wonderful.” Anything else he would have said was curtailed by the pealing of the extended harp cadenza from the Rose Adagio. Everything was starting.

Haruka patted Shiro on the arm and traded smiles with Keith. “Twenty-five seconds,” she reminded them softly before hurrying out onto the terrace to make her walk to the pergola.

That was the time frame between one member of the procession hitting the carpet and the next. Haruka said she had arranged the seating and the pacing so as to prevent the white carpet from becoming gridlocked, but Shiro was pretty sure she’d arranged it so as to keep the pergola at a comfortable distance from the terrace’s parapet, and he was grateful for her thoughtfulness.

“Ready?” Keith held out his left arm for Vibiana. He’d be walking her to her seat before taking his place beside the altar.

“Ready,” Vibiana agreed, taking the offered arm, and then they were on their way, a striking pair in nearly-matching deep red.

“Twenty-five seconds,” Shiro breathed. Then he remembered he wasn’t the only person still standing in the larger living area. He looked down at the children. They looked back up at him.

“Don’t worry mister,” said the little boy holding the seashell ring box, “we can count.”

“You can call me Shiro,” he replied with a smile.

“I’m Sylvio,” said the boy.

“My name is Nadia,” said the little girl with the basket of rose petals. “You’re cute.”

A familiar laugh rippled from somewhere just out of sight. Lance. He must be just around the decoratively paneled corner. Confirming his suspicion, Darrell leaned around the corner, looking very smart in an olive green three-piece suit with a bow tie.

“Stop worrying,” he said, “everything’s copacetic back here.”

Shiro felt a tugging on his sleeve. “It’s your turn to go outside Mister Shiro.”

“Thank you Nadia.” 

Shiro straightened his posture and left the shelter of the suite. Hopefully he hadn’t messed up the count. Allura’s violin had joined Shay’s harp in the sweet legato melody. Shiro counted off the beats as his strides brought him onto the white carpet leading to a pergola, and behind it a sweeping vista of the Hollywood Hills. A Lance who resided in Shiro’s memory spoke hesitantly about not having the wherewithal to go up into the hills which overlooked the place where he lived.

Shiro would see to it that Lance had the wherewithal to go anywhere he needed to go, starting here and now. His determination carried him closer to the end of the terrace, and he was not afraid. Haruka glowed with pride as she watched him take his place under the pergola. Shinji, who was already waiting for him there, patted his shoulder in an expression of familial warmth. 

Shiro turned to view the aisle and caught Keith’s eye for a momentary smile of acknowledgment, and a panorama of the Los Angeles city skyline out of the corner of his eye which he made an effort not to focus on because it would only remind him of how high up they were. As he looked out at the wedding guests, he saw varying degrees of friendliness, curiosity and encouragement. Kuro in particular was smiling hugely at him. Tatsuo was very much not.

Sylvio stepped onto the white carpet right on cue, his cap of dark hair so similar to Lance’s ruffling lightly in the breeze. He carried the seashell box in both hands, as a handsome couple who must be his parents watched his progress with abated breath. He reached the pergola without incident and held the box open for both Shinji and Keith to remove the rings before taking his place on Shinji’s other side.

“They thought I was gonna throw it,” he said cheerfully in his outdoor voice, “can you believe it?”

The wedding guests tittered while Sylvio’s parents both turned bright red. Then Nadia danced onto the white carpet and all eyes were on her as she flung flower petals far above and beyond what the job description of ‘flower girl’ called for. It would seem she knew every cabriole in Act II of _The Nutcracker_ and was ready to prove it, even if the music was not actually from _The Nutcracker_. Rose petals flew through the air at the maximum velocity a rose petal could hope to achieve as she leapt and spun; petals landed on the carpet, in the laps of laughing wedding guests, some petals even appeared to travel over the parapet but Shiro grimly refused to track their trajectory. In the bride’s seating section, Nadia’s mother face palmed.

“And they thought I was gonna be extra,” Sylvio said, this time using his indoor voice but everyone standing at the altar heard him just fine.

Nadia took her spot beside Keith with a plié and a cheeky grin. If there had ever been any doubt that these children were related to Lance it had just been summarily removed. 

Just as Shay and Allura burst upon the point where the music swelled to grandissimo, Lance finally appeared at the other end of the aisle on Darrell Stoker’s left arm. Shay and Allura carried the breadth of the piece as the consummate musicians they were. Vibiana stood and the rest of the guests followed her cue, but Shiro barely noticed. The brass arpeggio played only in his mind as his world narrowed down to the omega making his way down the white carpet, enfolded in body-skimming charmeuse that set off his skin in an auric glow. Silk flowers of red and gold adorned the top of the veil fluttering over his shoulders, matching the red and gold glinting around his neck and the red and cream flowers in his hand.

When they finally reached the end of the aisle, Darrell kissed Lance’s cheek and moved behind him to stand next to Lance’s mother in the front row as Allura and Shay brought the piece to a coda. Lance stepped up close under the pergola offering his right hand. Shiro took it, drawing him near and finally catching his wonderful scent alongside an elusively powdery scent. Was that the scent of violets?

Lance smiled, catching onto his confusion instantly. “I needed something old,” he whispered. His blue eyes shone to rival the sapphire in the hollow of his throat.

“Ah.” Shiro wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Perhaps Lance was wearing something under his frock that had been packed in dried sprigs of violets? He’d be sure to ask for more details later, when they were finally alone and he could investigate every trace of perfume on Lance’s skin.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Shirogane Takashi and Lance Antonio McClain Álvarez.” Haruka’s voice carried and Shiro’s flights of fancy about the wedding night wisped away in the reminder that the wedding day was still in progress. “Welcome, friends and family! We are glad to have you with us. You may now be seated”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance drank in his groom with his eyes as he neared the pergola. Nobody he had ever met could wear a finely tailored tuxedo like Shiro. He stood waiting in argentate splendor, a magnetic draw that Lance could not resist, nor did he wish to. When Shiro took his hand, it was obvious that he noticed the violet water on Lance immediately. It had been an amazing stroke of luck that Lisa had some with her that she was willing to share, as if Fortuna Virilis had smiled on this day.

Then the ceremony began and there was no more time for Lance to ponder his quicksilver luck as Haruka launched right into the welcome and opening remarks, which had been written with Kai’s assistance and which they had not heard during the rehearsal because they’d prioritized blocking out the processional.

“From days of long ago, from uncharted regions of Earth, this couple’s ancestors mated until these two came into being to stand before us now.”

Lance caught his mother’s blush out of his peripheral vision, and well she might blush because she was one of the ancestors who mated. Out of the corner of his other eye, Keith was grinning in open amusement. Lance met Shiro’s startled gaze and tried to convey with his own eyes, _‘Did you know she was going to do this?’_ Shiro’s eyes said, _‘Nope, sure didn’t.’_

“As their love grew, peace settled across Shirogane-sama’s troubled brow. In our house an alliance has been formed. Together with all of our families we will maintain peace throughout our lives, no matter what horrible menace should threaten us. If there is anyone present who has objections to this couple being united, prepare for battle.”

Nobody said a damn word.

“Intimacy is an integral part of the human condition,” Haruka continued, and Lance had a hope that the rest of the opening homily was going to be more conventional. “Loved by good, feared by evil, it is a legendary covenant between soul mates.” A hope that was immediately thwarted. “As individuals, we make a choice when we join together as a superforce to explore the ancient secrets of matrimony. Today, this is true for Shiro and Lance. There are few greater joys in life than finally finding that dynamic soul connection with whom we can truly interlock.”

A flush high on Shiro’s magnificent cheekbones suggested that it wasn’t a metaphysical interlock that he suddenly found himself contemplating.

“In that spirit, I wish to impress upon you the wisdom of the proverb, ‘ichi-go, ichi-e.’ Treasure each moment in time with one another, for the same exact moment in time can never be replicated.”

Lance thought of all the moments in time they’d already had together, good and bad. He cherished them all, even the ones he hoped never to repeat.

“Under the eyes of the universe, together we take a moment to acknowledge the seriousness of the commitment being entered into today. With jubilant spirits, we also recognize the special bond that will soon be shared by these two standing before us. As it is written in Ephesians, let them be humble, gentle and patient, bearing with one another in love.”

Shiro squeezed Lance’s hand. Lance squeezed back.

“It is now time for the couple to recite their vows. Shiro and Lance, the promises you make today are sacred. They are the groundwork from which your marriage will blossom and grow over time. Have you both come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“Yes,” Lance said.

Shiro smiled. “Yes.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Before their family and friends, Lance and Shiro agreed to take each other as beloved spouses, to have and to hold, through laughter and tears, through challenges and successes, so long as they both should live, and they both felt the power of the ritual underscoring the words.

“It is now time for the exchange of rings.”

Keith and Shinji stepped forward, each holding a gleaming gold band in the palm of their hand.

“The ring is a constant circle, like the moon when it is fully illuminated by the sun. It is a symbol of never-ending love, for love freely given has no beginning and no end, just like this circle of gold which you shall each wear to remind you of the vows you have taken upon this day. Please repeat after me...”

They repeated, “With this ring I wed you, and pledge you my fidelity, now and forever,” as each slid a gold ring on the other’s finger.

“Shiro and Lance, by the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and the state of California, under the eyes of the universe, I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss! But please keep it rated PG because there are children standing right here.”

“What’s a pee gee?” Nadia asked, as clapping arose from the guests with varying degrees of relieved laughter.

All of that faded into the background as Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and leaned up to meet him, Shiro’s strong arms pulling him the rest of the way. Their lips met and held as they clutched each other close. Shiro’s scent surrounded him like smoke... or wait, no, someone was actually lighting something on fire.

“Lance and Shiro, today we have had the great pleasure of witnessing your union become official. As a symbol of your bond, you will now light a unity candle, the flame of which is emblematic of your two souls uniting together.”

This had not been in the rehearsal. Keith and Shinji were both holding pillar candles forth toward the front row of their respective sections. They must have coordinated this while Lance and Shiro were at the courthouse. Lance’s mother had already eagerly accepted the lighter from Keith and lit his candle. Shiro’s stepmother was looking at Shinji like he’d grown a second head until Kuro reached right past him and snatched the lighter out of Shinji’s hand.

“I want to light it!” Kuro said excitedly.

Then he did, and Keith and Shinji held out their candles for Lance and Shiro to take from them. Keith in turn took Lance’s bouquet.

“Lance and Shiro, you each hold in your hand a flame,” Haruka intoned. “Think of this flame as a representation of your individual lives. Your dreams and sorrows, passions and fears, joys and disappointments, all reside within the light of this candle.”

Lance stared into the flickering flame of his candle. He’d done some hard living in his short life, but he couldn’t regret a second of it if it meant that it led him to Shiro. He looked into Shiro’s eyes and saw love, felt love. 

“Now go light the hurricane lantern in the center of the banquet table,” Haruka said.

Shiro winked at Lance and together they walked side by side back down the white carpet, with Keith and Shinji falling in behind them and the children bringing up the rear.

“Lance and Shiro will now use their candles to jointly light the largest candle on the banquet table,” Haruka continued as the guests began to stand for the recessional. “Two flames will burn as one, so that their light and warmth can be shared with the rest of us.”

Allura and Shay glided smoothly into the andantino tempo of Panorama as the guests filed out of the rows and the company headed inside for the celebration that was to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end of this particular wedding. The reception is yet to come.


	13. Shyness Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Shiro's wedding reception proves that fateful meetings might be contagious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, kudoed and commented! Shout outs to luminiferousaether, old_pens, PyroInfinite, Inoshi, Yo_buddy, moonlightlance, and Drowning_Slowly. Don't worry, Curtis and Adam still have some more story to unwind and they will get it together.

  
Hurricane lanterns glowed merrily along the banquet table, and the drinks flowed generously from the open bar as Lance and Shiro formed a receiving line between the two stations inside the venue. Their line was mercifully short, a fringe benefit of having such a small wedding. Lance saw in Keith’s eyes the exact moment when he realized that if his own wedding had a receiving line it would last an eternity, until Hunk leaned over his shoulder to say softly in his ear, “Don’t worry babe, our folks are pushing for speeches over a receiving line, remember? It’ll still be long but at least we’ll be sitting down for most of it.”

Keith breathed a visible sigh of relief while Lance traded a glance with Shiro, who shrugged. All things considered, Lance would take the receiving line. He wasn’t good with being stationary for long periods of time, unless it was to sleep or catch a show. 

The receiving line ended and the guests mingled as the wedding party was hustled off to the grand foyer for some photographs. Veronica’s wife Dorma was an experienced photographer and had volunteered her services for Lance’s wedding reception if she could secure the loan of a camera. With Shiro’s approval, Omnia had arranged to have a DSLR camera and gear delivered to the hotel for Dorma to keep. Dorma, never one to shy away from an opportunity to prove her bona fides, declared that the foyer had the best light for the time of day and proceeded to have the wedding party stand in various arrangements while she snapped away.

She looked beautiful in a lavender wrap dress with flutter sleeves, but it also seemed that her luxuriant black tresses were more lustrous than usual, and her skin more radiant. Was her sky flower scent sweeter than usual, or was Lance’s memory playing tricks on him? He managed to get away from the photo session long enough to corner Veronica, sharply outfitted in a dark blue tuxedo jacket and trousers over a white shell blouse. Her lips curved into a tiny smile as she sorted through the lighting kit for a filter Dorma had asked for. “Thanks for the congrats,” she said, “but don’t tell anybody yet, we’re waiting for the second trimester.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Lance promised solemnly, but silently rejoiced. He was going to be an uncle again!

After the pictures were taken, Lance crowded into the powder room with Keith and Kuro to remove his veil and help him bustle his frock, because he wanted to be able to dance later. His mother, anticipating this, had added a button and loop in the same lace as the overlay in order to unobtrusively create a small bustle. Lance loved the silk flower ornaments he’d borrowed and asked if he could wear them for the rest of the reception, so Kuro obligingly helped him unfasten them from the veil’s comb and refasten them back into his hair, chattering all the while.

“How do you know when you really like an alpha?” Kuro asked. “Is it scent, or something else?”

“Scent’s part of it,” Keith said. “That was one of the first things that got my attention, anyway.”

Here, Lance felt at a bit of a loss, as he had not met Shiro in the usual manner. He could have smelled like ginkgo berries and Lance would have still gotten into the car with him that night. He wouldn’t have agreed to stay for the whole fateful week if he hadn’t already liked the man, though. It wasn’t just the great sex that decided him, either.

“You know for sure when you want to keep talking to him,” Lance said. “So you keep saying things hoping to get some more of that spark.”

“Yeah.” Keith smiled. “Good conversation is definitely important.”

“Conversation,” Kuro murmured. “So I have to find reasons to go and talk to her.”

Lance and Keith exchanged raised eyebrows. Who was her?

“But what will I say?” Kuro keened.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
｢Are they truly starting the after-party already? The reception has barely begun!｣

Tatsuo had behaved himself fairly well during the ceremony. Shiro supposed it was too much to hope that his moderate manners would continue for the rest of the day, and sure enough here he was bitching about the reception moving along faster than he was expecting. At least he was bitching in Nihongo so that only a select group of the other guests understood him. Dazzling his stepmother with brilliance rarely worked, so Shiro decided to try baffling with bullshit. 

｢Something is different about you today. Have you done something new with your beauty routine?｣

Tatsuo smiled as if he had a great secret to impart. ｢I am wearing the gift your bride gave to me.｣

He did actually smell different, like a field of flowers instead of just the one. ｢It smells lovely on you.｣ 

This was actually not a bald-faced lie, and it was also not what Tatsuo wanted to hear at all, not only because it ruined his punch line but also because it implied that his natural scent required enhancements. Tatsuo’s eyes glinted in preparation for a return volley.

｢Tatsuo-san, in this country the after-party and the reception are one and the same.｣ Shinji stepped in and slipped an arm through one of Tatsuo’s. ｢Let’s enjoy the refreshments.｣

Tatsuo glared about balefully at the celebrating guests. ｢I had been looking forward to the dancers.｣

｢Do not fret, there will be dancers.｣ 

Shinji did not mention the fact that the guests would be dancing en masse, and Shiro saw no reason to bring up the oversight. Tatsuo would find out when it happened. Shiro lifted his rum and coke in a mock salute as Shinji led Tatsuo toward the open bar. A short alpha in a green tailcoat skidded into the spot they’d just vacated.

“That was the best wedding sermon I’ve ever had to sit through,” Pidge declared brightly. “Ten out of ten would endure again.”

“Better than the one at my wedding?” her brother asked archly as he breezed up beside her. “Hi Shiro.” Matt offered Shiro a genuine smile that was genuinely returned.

“You and Ryan could have gone to Vegas, but instead of being the fun couple you two had to go and have a traditional chapel wedding with the stained glass windows and the garlanded pews and the celebrant who made you kneel at the altar and all that quaint jazz.”

As Shiro recalled, he’d sent something nice from their registry, but now he was kind of sorry he’d missed that wedding as it did sound very pleasant.

“You just wanted to go to the SciFi wedding chapel,” was Matt’s rejoinder.

“Guilty,” Pidge replied. “Who’ll score us those sweet Twilight Zone mini-golf passes now?”

“You will,” Matt said without missing a beat.

“Guess it’s up to me then.” Pidge grinned and then aimed a speculative look in Shiro’s direction. “So, your younger brother...”

“I have one,” Shiro confirmed cautiously.

“He sure is pretty!” She swirled a flute of champagne in her hands and Shiro’s imagination supplied a scene where they might be toasting at a Las Vegas buffet with a Spock impersonator presiding as the host. “What’s his story?”

“I, uh...” 

Forgive Shiro for being flummoxed, but never had he ever thought he’d be having this kind of conversation with Matt’s little sister. He’d never even considered that Matt’s little sister and his own little brother would cross paths, Tatsuo being as overprotective as he was, but fate certainly worked in mysterious ways. Matt hid his face in his flute of champagne and Shiro thought for a moment that he was hiding his embarrassment, but no, that wasn’t it. As he hiccuped on a swallowed bubble, it became apparent that Matt was trying to hide his laughter.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The reception dinner had been set up as a buffet, with food delivered from several restaurants kept warm in chafing dishes supplied by the hotel, and a beverage station of wines and soft drinks also provided by the hotel. The buffet table was set up in a T formation with the long banquet tables placed end to end to accommodate roughly thirty people. There was a fresh green salad with garlicky vinaigrette, ropa vieja and masitas de puerco alongside yellow rice, congri rice with red beans, and warm baskets of sliced pan cubano next to chilled dishes of butter pats. There were also serving trays with what remained of the appetizers that the guests had been noshing on prior to dinner: croquetas stuffed with ham and cheese, as well as tuna croquettes with sakura sauce. Nobody who had RSVP’d had reported any food allergies or other dietary requirements, so they’d just gone all in with indulgent food choices.

On a round table beside the buffet table sat the beautiful wedding cake, waiting for its moment of glory. A much smaller tres leches cake sat beside it just in case of extra sweet-tooths. Given the small size of the wedding and the rushed planning, it was decided to only arrange the seating for the wedding party, with the hope that the rest of the guests could easily choose from the remaining seats. This worked out fine as they mostly sorted themselves with the bride’s family on the side of the table where he was sitting, and the groom’s on the other side accordingly. Each place setting had beside it kohaku manju which had been picked up from a local wagashi confectionery; each confection artfully wrapped so that the guest could choose to take it home or consume it immediately as they pleased.

Department store gift cards acquired with Coran’s assistance had also been supplied as wedding favors, tucked into little ‘thank you’ envelopes and set where the place cards would have gone. Bride and groom had been placed at the very end of the table, the better to facilitate them excusing themselves when it came time for them to rise from the table for the first dance. Lance had successfully petitioned to leave that for after dinner using the argument that once he and his family started dancing they were probably not going to sit back down again for a while.

After everyone was seated with full plates and glasses, Lance’s mother stood from her chair with her champagne flute raised. “If I may have everyone’s attention, please. Thank you.” She looked so happy Lance was getting a contact high just gazing on her beatific face. “I would like to thank everyone for coming here today and witnessing my Lancito marry this fine young man.” This garnered applause. “I also wanted to thank everyone who helped put together this wonderful meal we are about to share on this special day. ¡Gracias! Lancito, Shiro.” She looked each of them in the eyes. “May your sweet love be blessed throughout your marriage. Never forget to be kind to one another.”

“Salud!” Glasses were clinked, cheers of agreement were raised.

As Vibiana sat back down, Shinji stood up with his own champagne glass raised. “Please allow me to second those blessings. I have known Shiro-san all of his life, and always a serious young man was he, until he met Lansu-san.” At the good-natured chuckling that ensued from that statement, he rushed on, “Not to say that he is not still serious. He simply is serious in a way that allows for more laughter in his life. As his cousin it brings peace to my mind to see it. As his best man, I have high hopes that his marriage will flourish, and that this couple may continue to share their radiant joy as they have so generously done thus far. Kampai.”

Another round of cheers, with some hearty ‘kampais’ scattered among them from guests who were more familiar with the term. Keith was one of them, and when the crowd simmered down again he unfolded himself from his chair between Lance and Hunk.

“I didn’t write a speech,” he said, winning the biggest laugh yet. “I’ve known Lance a couple of years now, and right from the first he was a guy who wouldn’t back down from a challenge.” He smirked down at Lance, who grinned back. 

Both of them were remembering Lance’s first night at the Purple Imperial. He hadn’t known yet that he had to tip the DJ to get a good song, so he’d wound up taking the stage to “La Macarena.” Then he’d owned it because he actually understood what the lyrics meant.

“That’s how I know he’s gonna be okay,” Keith continued with a sidelong wink at Lance. “He might duck, dive and weave when life throws him for a loop, but he won’t give up.” He looked across the table at Shiro. “He’ll have your back.”

“And I’ll have his,” Shiro said firmly.

“Cheers to that,” Keith replied, and another round of cheers went up as glasses were lifted.

The gathered guests then began to eat and converse among themselves as Chopin’s waltzes carried softly over from the entertainment room’s sound system.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Pidge was sitting next to the guy of her dreams and she had her brother to thank for it. Not just theoretically in that if he hadn’t dated Shiro then probably neither of them would be there, but also empirically in that she’d just watched him play a game of musical chairs chicken with Kuro’s mother until the Widow Shirogane retreated to sit on Kuro’s other side next to the best man, leaving Pidge free to take up the seat that Matt had bluffed for her. Apparently there was some sort of lingering antipathy between Matt and Kuro’s mother. Meanwhile, Kuro’s lingering scent was a constant draw on Pidge’s attention. It had been a terrible distraction during the ceremony with his neck less than a foot from her face, and now that he was sitting right next to her it was even worse.

She had to think of something witty to say before her senses became too scrambled to come up with more than bad pickup lines. She turned her head to study his profile. Shiny jet hair marked a beautifully stark line against a milky complexion. He had silk campanula ornaments of different lengths in his hair, she’d noticed that earlier. The longer one dangled trailing fronds enticingly against his jaw as he lifted a slice of buttered bread to his lips.

“Good bread, huh?”

Brilliant, Pidge. Smoove af.

Kuro turned with a rising blush and a smile half-hidden behind his hand. “I like bread.”

“Then on my honor as an alpha of Rosso lineage, I will ensure your bread bowl never runs out, serah.”

What the actual hell were these words coming out of her mouth.

Kuro’s eyelashes, black as the contour plumage of a bird-of-paradise, lowered to his reddening cheeks. So cute.

“It is gracious of you to offer, serah,” he said. “I will gladly accept your courtesy.”

Awesome! She had managed to fumble her way into a valid excuse for staying close to his side for the rest of the reception.

Now she just had to think of something else to say, otherwise they could wind up talking about bread for hours.

“Do you like peanut butter cookies?”

Kuro perked up in curiosity. “I like Oreo cookies. Are they similar?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Taking the dance floor for the first time as a married couple, let’s give a warm welcome to Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane and Lance McClain Álvarez de Shirogane!”

One of the hotel’s A/V specialists, a personable beta named Daigo, was acting as MC for the dance portion of the reception. The guests cheered encouragingly and the dance floor lit up with LED stars. The music kicked in as the applause faded. A recorded charanga opened in paseo cadence as Shiro led Lance in a promenade across the floor. Lance smiled playfully over the fluttering top of his fan as the light pressure of Shiro’s hand led him in a wide circle curving straight into his arms.

Blue eyes smiled up into Shiro’s as Lance closed his folding fan to drape one arm across his shoulders, the glitter of his wedding ring passing across his peripheral vision as he did so. Chest to chest they stood as Shiro lifted his other hand higher than he was accustomed to for closed position, but bringing them so close, almost cuddling with Shiro’s other arm wrapped solidly around Lance’s back. The melody arrived to sweep them across the floor in a series of chain steps that reminded Shiro of tango, but with shorter steps, softer knees and swaying hips. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice that sounded a lot like his old ballroom dance instructor Sven was telling him to change it up a little, _“Go crazy, you can do anything,”_ but if he twirled Lance then he’d have to let go of him and lose his smile and he really didn’t want to do that, not even for the few seconds it would take before he was back in his arms.

All too soon the song ended and the guests clapped for them, and still Shiro didn’t want to let go, until Daigo announced “A special treat the family of the bride has in store for us,” and Lance leaned up to kiss him sweetly on the mouth.

“Hold my spot for me,” Lance said, pressing his folding fan to Shiro’s heart. 

Shiro took the fan, then raised his hand and kissed it. “My dance card’s all yours.”

For some reason that made Lance blush very prettily before he joined his mother and siblings in a circle on the dance floor.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance took his place next to his mother, feeling the excitement of a rueda begin to spark among the group. He would be partnered with his mother as his lead, and Marco as Rachel’s lead, and Veronica and Luis leading their respective spouses, at least to start. Mamá would be their caller as they moved through the figures and changed partners throughout the dance. They stood with the leads facing counterclockwise and the follows facing clockwise in closed position. As the track opened they rocked toward the center, until Vibiana called out, “¡Arriba!” and they began to move counterclockwise in an eight count.

The montuno of the song kicked in, carrying its spirit to their feet. “¡Par’ti, par’mi!” They smoothly transitioned into open position and inside turns. “¡Enchufla con mambo!” Vibiana led Lance into another turn to swap their positions in the circle, and then Lance was mamboing in Marco’s direction, and Marco was mamboing toward him while singing along with the song. Marco looked very dashing in single-breasted wool of a blue as bright as his eyes.

“¡Dedo!” Still singing away like a goofball, Marco drew Lance into a crossbody lead with an outside turn and then an inside turn followed by a hook turn. “¡Dame!” Marco released Lance into Veronica’s waiting arms as she pulled him into another crossbody lead.

“¡Coca-cola!” Veronica propelled Lance into an inside turn, letting go of his hands so he could raise his arms over his head while he spun. She was waiting on his other side to pull him back into crossbody lead when he came out of the spin. “¡Adios con vuelta!” With her usual dramatic flair, Veronica gave Lance a little push-pull into a spot turn, after which she passed under his arm to reach for her next partner while passing Lance off to Luis.

“¡Montaña!” Taking his hands in the handshake position, Luis lead Lance into an underarm turn and a hook turn, followed by another underarm turn and a head loop. Their height difference never caused Luis to miss a single step because he was always aware of where Lance’s feet were in respect to his own. Good spatial awareness had always been one of Luis’s strengths on the dance floor. He looked as handsome as Marco in a suit that was nearly identical, except that instead of a blue jacket, his was moss green to match his wife’s chiffon dress.

“¡La Flor!” The leads all stepped to the center of the circle and raised their arms like a flower opening, then retreated so that the follows could repeat the maneuver. As he met his sister and sisters-in-law in the center of the circle, Lance felt jubilation and saw the same emotion reflected in their lovely faces. The smell of flowers filled the room as they repeated their passes back and forth.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The bride’s family had moved on from switching partners in a wide circle to increasingly complicated moves where they were switching partners without letting go of the previous partner’s hand, connected in the center of the circle like a human game of cat’s cradle. It kind of reminded Pidge of square dancing, but with a lot more hip swaggling. Matt had started filming them with his phone. Several feet away, Kuro was watching them with a rapt expression on his pretty face, his tabi and zori clad feet mimicking the footwork in tiny steps. _So fucking cute_.

“I’m gonna dance with that boy.”

Matt looked up from his filming. “Pidge, do you know how to dance?”

“Shut up.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
｢Why are we dancing?｣ Tatsuo was, as Shinji had been certain he would be, thrown by being invited in front of all the guests to dance with the wedding party.

｢It is traditional that members of the wedding and the bride and groom’s parents dance together before the rest of the guests join in.｣ Shinji held Tatsuo’s hands in closed position as the wedding march opened an old city pop song that he felt sure Tatsuo would recognize.

Shiro had been very accommodating in allowing this song to be selected for the third dance. It helped Shinji’s cause that “Seriously Only You (Let’s Get Married)” was almost on the nose with how appropriate it was for the occasion. As the first verse took over with its melodic chord progression, Shinji drew Tatsuo into a nightclub two-step and wished that they could move into the future as fluidly as the song was moving them through the dance.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ You and me in a small house with a dog ♬_

Keith and Hunk shared a laugh when what sounded like a small dog barked on the track. Lance had pressed his case that significant others should be included in the wedding party dance, and Keith was glad because Hunk could trip the light fantastic. Who knew such a big guy could be so light on his feet? Well, now Keith knew.

“Hey babe, what do you think about getting a dog?” Keith asked. He’d always liked dogs, never been allowed to have one in the apartments where he’d lived most of his life, but now he did live in a house.

“We’ve got a fenced yard,” Hunk mused as he expertly led Keith through the sweetheart dance position. “I like dogs, I just always worried I’d forget to take it on walks whenever I needed to pull some overtime, but if we’re sharing responsibility we could make it work. I think it’s a great idea.”

Keith looked up into Hunk’s face as he began leading him through a waist slide. “Really?”

Hunk smiled down at him after stepping through the move back into his embrace. “Really.” He pulled Keith back to him in a cradle bounce. “Since we’re talking about great ideas, um, how would you feel if I picked a surprise song for the first dance at our wedding?”

Keith thought that one over through an arch turn. Every time they tried to decide on the song they just wound up laughing through a game of ‘name that tune’ to the point where Hina was threatening to turn them loose to “Muskrat Love” and played snippets of it whenever she called them for an update. They had to pick something. Keith was half-convinced Hina would really play the muskrat song if they didn’t.

It wasn’t as if Keith had some love song that was his favorite from high school days. The few times he’d actually attended a high school dance he’d been kicked out for smoking, and that was before Herbert Wade started dogging his steps and he’d had to avoid any school function where that jerk alpha might be hanging around. Besides, Keith trusted Hunk’s taste, and this way both of them would get a chance to astound each other with an unexpected dance.

“Go ahead and surprise me babe.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Colleen had shown up at the airport as golden sunrise crept over the horizon, expecting to wait through security checkpoints and subsequent check-ins for economy class, only to discover that Thace had arranged to bump her up to an economy privilege ticket with fast lane and business lounge access, saving her a good thirty minutes and giving her a comfortable spot to sit and catch up on family news before her flight boarded. Either he wanted her out of his territory tout de suite, or he wanted to make something up to her, and Colleen had a pretty good idea which it was. In order for him to have been invited to that party, Honerva had to believe that her son was safe around him. Colleen wondered what Thace had been willing to give up to maintain that frenemies connection and decided that on second thought maybe she didn’t want to know.

She still had a long haul flight to Virginia ahead of her, but now she’d be taking it in slightly greater comfort and she had Thace to thank for it. Setting her to-go cup of coffee down at a booth table near the windows, Colleen opened her recently neglected chat and text apps and found the expected love notes from Sam, a most welcomed picture of Matt sleeping sent by Pidge and dated from ten hours earlier, and last but not least, an unexpected pair of messages from Matt himself sent within the past half hour.

Bracing herself for possible diablerie as she knew that Matt had a memory as long and vindictive as her own, Colleen opened the first of his messages. _The mother of your future grandchildren_ , it said, and there was a candid shot of Pidge looking up at a boy who looked so much like Shiro there was no chance that wasn’t his little brother; the one Matt had described as ‘an adorable brat’ after that trip which they’d all disastrously misread as a sign of intent to marry. Pidge looked absolutely gobsmacked in the photo, but to her credit, so did Shiro’s little brother. Perhaps Colleen would be welcoming a Shirogane into the family after all and her Busuu premium membership would finally become more than just a fun time-waster.

Great Caesar’s ghost, then she might have to deal with Shiro’s stepmother again. Distracted by that thought, Colleen opened the second message without mentally preparing herself for what she was going to find. _I’m at a better party than you were_. This one had been copied to Ryan and had an image file of a stationery card with the wedding reception itinerary, along with an embedded video file which started playing immediately. A small group of very happy looking people were dancing in a circle to lively music full of trumpet riffs and tropical rhythms, and when one of them in a wedding frock came into the frame, she paid attention.

It took almost a bar of music for the bride to circle around so that she could get a good look at his face. When he did, Colleen’s breath caught in her throat. The omega bore an obvious family resemblance to the people he was dancing with, but his heart-shaped face and the pattern of his cowlicks were so similar to a late colleague’s that it gave her a moment. She fixed her gaze on the image file to let that moment pass, and that’s when she noticed that the bride also shared that very colleague’s family name.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Pidge’s coworkers and a commanding alpha woman named Nanette Dayak had shown up in time for the dancing. Matt had subsequently enjoyed a couple of turns around the floor with Nanette, who was a talented raconteur with some wildly entertaining stories about Shiro, before the other ginger omega, Coran, snagged Nanette’s attention and kept it. Matt had then accepted an invitation from James Griffin, who did not realize that Matt was married until well into their third dance. Handsome, gracious and an excellent dancer, James was what Matt’s college roommate Beezer would have called ‘a great catch,’ except that he was not terribly skilled at reading social context clues. Some lucky person would still claim that alpha for themselves and probably soon, only they might have to be the one to raise the DTR conversation when it happened.

Matt took a break from the dancing to get himself another rum and coke (hey, he wasn’t driving) and revel in the sight of his little sister getting down to a remix of “Call Me Maybe” with young Kuro, who was trying his very best to emulate her energetic moves without putting any creases in his kimono where there weren’t supposed to be creases. What Pidge lacked in any kind of dance training she more than made up for in sheer enthusiasm. Matt believed in fully appreciating the small, transient pleasures in life. Like watching his sister interpret the Running Man with pinwheel arms, and her dance partner reinterpreting that choice with fluttery buyō moves.

“Folks I’d like to ask you to clear the dance floor please, except for any guests who would like to increase their luck at becoming the next to wed,” the MC said into his microphone as the song faded out. “It’s time for the bouquet and garter toss!”

There was a great shuffling on the dance floor, as guests made their feelings on potential matrimony known by rushing onto the starlit tiles, or rushing off. Coran was one of the ones who rushed on. Much to Coran’s visible disappointment, Nanette was one of the ones who rushed off. Pidge stalked out of the tumult to stand next to Matt with a grumpy face.

“What’s the matter?” Matt snagged an unopened cold soda someone had left on an end table, cracked it open and handed it to his sister. “I thought you just experienced love at first sight.”

“I shwe ah mmmm.” Whatever Pidge had been trying to say was lost in a long glug of soda pop. “Kuro’s mom won’t let him stay for the toss.”

That sounded like Tatsuo. He’d tried his hardest to prevent Kuro from befriending Matt, but Kuro had possessed a mind of his own even as an unpresented kid, though he was sometimes circumspect about expressing it. Sure enough, as the dance floor thinned out there was Kuro passively resisting being dragged away by refusing to center his weight. Every time Tatsuo pulled on him, he went limp. In fact he would have toppled over backward if not for Tatsuo’s determined pulling.

The bride had his back turned ready for the bouquet toss, so he didn’t notice the little drama going on at the edge of the dance floor. Shiro jolted as he caught sight of it, but before he could say anything the MC queued up Daft Punk’s “One More Time” to signal it was time to throw. Matt frowned because the animated singer from that song’s video always reminded him of his husband, and he didn’t want to think of Ryan right that second, because if he did then it might harsh his mellow. 

Then the bride tossed the bouquet and it bounced off Tatsuo’s chest into Kuro’s. Tatsuo was so surprised he let go of Kuro’s arms. Kuro fell on his butt with the bouquet clutched to his chest. “Itai,” he said as he landed.

“Oh my gosh!” The bride – Lance? – rushed over to help Kuro up off the floor. “Are you hurt? Hey, you caught the bouquet!”

“It landed on Okaa-san first,” Kuro said. “I am alright.”

Tatsuo and Lance then proceeded to have a frostily polite face-off over who should have the privilege of escorting Kuro from the dance floor. Shiro and both honor attendants approached from different corners to manage that situation but before Matt could go in search of some popcorn his view of the spectacle was suddenly interrupted by a green tailcoat thrown over his head.

“Hey.” He pulled the coat off so that it hung over his arm. “You came this close to an expensive dry cleaning bill. What are you doing?” 

Pidge had discarded her soda and was rolling up her shirtsleeves. “I’m gonna catch that garter.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in superstitious bunk like this.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “You did the superstitious bunk.”

“Only to give Aunt Debbie a little pick-me-up.” At the time of Matt’s wedding, she had just started trying to get back into the dating game after a rancorous divorce. They’d all pretty much conspired to let her catch the bouquet.

“It worked out well for her,” Pidge pointed out, and maybe she had a point. Aunt Debbie had met one of Dad’s colleagues at Matt’s wedding, and now they were planning one of their own.

But still. “Correlation doesn’t imply causation.”

“Cause and effect can connect through a mechanism,” Pidge shot back.

“Like a garter toss?” 

But Matt’s skeptical words fell on deaf ears, as Pidge was already taking her place on the dance floor near James Griffin and that guy who worked for Shiro and had been following around one of the bride’s sisters like a lost puppy. There were other people standing ready, but they didn’t have game face on like those three did.

The MC restarted the song at the slow breakdown where the singer was encouraging the listener not to wait too late to celebrate. Shiro and his bride had reversed the usual setup for the garter removal. Instead of the bride sitting in a chair while the groom knelt and rummaged under the frock, Shiro was sitting in a chair with Lance’s foot perched up in his lap. Lance lifted his own hemline so that Shiro could find the garter, secured just above his knee, and roll it down a leg of the sort that people meant when they called them ‘stems.’ Then Lance stood back and helped Shiro out of the chair.

Once stood, Shiro reared back and made as if to fling the garter like a rubber band, causing Lance to laugh and pull on his shoulders while some helpful people in the audience shouted out that he needed to turn around.

“What?” Shiro looked honestly confused. “Then my aim will be terrible.”

“That’s the idea,” Pidge called out.

Shiro obligingly turned around and quickly realized he wasn’t going to be able to load the garter with kinetic energy from that angle. “I’m not going to get much loft throwing it overhand,” he complained.

“Shiro for Pete’s sake, just throw the garter!”

_♬ Music’s got me feeling so free we’re gonna celebrate ♬_

Shiro tossed the garter into the air behind him just as his best man was returning to the dance floor after helping Kuro take his prize off the field of frippery-catching battle. 

The lacy blue flotsam landed right on top of Shinji’s head. “Oh goodness me.”

James and the spiky-haired guy lunged forward like wide receivers going for a touchback. Bellowing a fearsome war cry, Pidge launched herself onto James’s back, galloping him over to Shinji to snatch the garter off his head before jumping back down.

“Ha!” Pidge waved the garter over her head like a victory flag.

“What just happened?” James looked disconcerted.

“This tiny alpha just achieved god tier status by riding you like a pony,” said Spiky-haired Dude.

This was so worth a transatlantic flight, even without popcorn. Matt took out his phone again. Semi-silent treatment was over, no matter how justified. He had to tell his husband the whole story as soon as possible. Transient moments were priceless, but some of them deserved to become immortalized into family legend.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Nadia and Sylvio had danced all through the reception (Lance really hoped somebody had caught them on camera doing the cha-cha to a J-pop song) but their impressive energy reserves were finally starting to give out. Lisa was watching them with mom eyes in case they suddenly decided to flop right where they were, as Lance remembered they had a tendency to do. Really, all of Vibiana’s children and grandchildren had that tendency. Must have gotten it from her side of the family, though it seemed to have skipped Vibiana herself. 

Luis had disappeared somewhere with Mamá just after the bouquet toss, and Lance might have assumed they were just trying to fix up a nest in the library for the kids to nap in, except that Marco had disappeared shortly after that. Now, Marco could have wanted to avoid the teasing that would result from anyone observing the way he’d stood ready to dodge with a drink in his hand and only one foot on the dance floor during the garter toss, but the timing was suspicious. They had to be up to something.

His suspicions were confirmed when the steady stream of dancing tunes was interrupted by “Ah, quel diner” from _La Périchole_. It was a short aria, so the interruption wasn’t long. Just long enough to get everyone’s attention. Lance looked up into Shiro’s eyes, as they had just been gliding in close embrace to a bolero before the opera music cut in. From the flicker of curiosity in his eyes and across the bond, Shiro hadn’t been expecting this either.

“Gentlefolk, we have another surprise from the bride’s family! Anyone who isn’t allergic to tobacco products, please feel free to join us out on the terrace!”

Lance was astonished. _They didn’t_. Out on the terrace under a pink and purple sky, a line was forming in front of a table from which emitted the familiar earthy scent of cured tobacco. _They did_.

Luis stood over a serving table upon which rested a cutting board with cigar scissors, vegetable glue and a chaveta knife. A cedar box sat on the table beside him, with stacks of leaves wafting that distinctive aroma; a dry box cooler sat at his feet. Luis had actually been the first one of them to leave home, to apprentice at a cigar factory when he was fresh out of secondary school. He had just made it onto the production floor when Pipo fell ill for the final time. Luis came back home to help out and then he met Lisa, and that was all she wrote.

The mystery of where Marco and Mamá went off to was solved, as they both stood next to Luis ready to act as his assistants. When he had done cigar rolling demonstrations for the tourists in Varadero, Luis had worked with Lisa as his assistant, but she must be still watching the childre– oh, nope, she was stepping out onto the terrace right behind Lance and Shiro. It was Dorma who was conspicuously absent.

Making her the designated babysitter was a clever way to keep her away from the smoke without having to supply an excuse. There was no way in hell that Lisa didn’t know Dorma was preggers.

“Here comes the bride!” Marco called out as Shiro cautiously escorted Lance closer to the table.

“Lance!” Luis grinned hugely. “¡Ven aça! Come and get your cigar!”

Lance squeezed Shiro’s arm reassuringly as they approached the table, which was set closer to the end of the terrace than the wedding arch had been. Convenient for giving the guests plenty of space to smoke without getting too close to the door leading inside, but not so convenient for staying away from the edge of the roof. At some point he was going to have to quietly let it be known to the rest of his family that Shiro was not a big fan of heights. 

When they neared the table, Lance saw that Luis had already bunched and bound the cigars to box-press them so that they were all ready for the wrappers, of which he’d acquired a selection of Connecticut, Maduro and Habano to choose from. Marco stood ready with a triple torch lighter. Vibiana carried a dish of honey lozenges and a large sports bottle of mineral water, but Lance wasn’t offended because he knew those weren’t for him. This was likely to be their first encounter with a cigar for some of the guests, and that meant someone might over-inhale instead of draw and puff. 

Nobody would be presumed upon to smoke their gift if they didn’t want to. Lance saw the box of small metal travel tubes waiting under the table next to the dry box cooler now that he was closer. Handmade cigars made nice souvenirs which could appreciate in value if properly stored, so there would be no waste if guests chose to take theirs home or even if they declined to accept one. Still, there was bound to be at least one person who couldn’t resist the opportunity to try their first ever cigar right there on the spot.

Then Lance got a look at the ring size on the cigars Luis had prepared. “Holy smokes Luis, when did you have time to sleep?”

“Who needs sleep when my baby brother is getting married?” Luis laughed. He had chosen lanceros, a size and style which required notoriously exacting bunching skill, and since Luis had left his Torcedor training at the journeyman level and was very aware of that fact, he’d have taken even more time on bunching and binding those cigars than he might have done with a larger style. “I thought it was the perfect type to celebrate you.”

Lance reached out and Luis reached back, and they shared a tight hug. Someone cooed. It might have been Hunk.

“Let’s get your cigar finished.” Luis patted Lance’s back as he let go. “Habano?”

“Please,” Lance nodded, confirming the choice of a Habano leaf wrapper: silky, spicy and probably from South America because of the embargo.

Luis selected a rehydrated leaf, laid it across the cutting board and worked his wizardry with the chaveta knife as all of the guests looked on. He nudged a half-made cigar out of the box, its shape slightly squared off due to it having been pressed, and meticulously began to roll it in the leaf. A judicious application of the vegetable glue and a pigtail cap secured the wrapper, before Luis trimmed the foot with the chaveta and inspected the cigar via scent and touch. Satisfied, he cut the cap with the cigar scissors. Then he warmed the foot with his fingertips before offering the cigar to Lance.

Lance smiled his thanks at Luis before Marco stepped forward and lit the torch. Although Lance wasn’t what he himself would personally consider to be a connoisseur, he did know how to light his own cigar. However, he also knew that he was setting the tone for the rest, and it would probably be safer all around to let Marco do the honors for everyone. Marco held the flame so that Lance could toast the foot over it, rotating it patiently until it was ringed with ash, before leaning forward to take a puff to ignite the filler. The foot flared with flame and a plume of smoke drifted out of Lance’s mouth, causing a murmur from the watching guests. 

Holding the cigar between his thumb and forefinger, Lance blew on the lit foot, causing it to glow merrily. He took another puff and held the smoke in his mouth before letting it go, enjoying the flavors. With a lancero, the taste of the wrapper was the star of the show. Lance found the expected spice, along with notes of coffee, leather, and a strong draft of rich oud which had not come from his cigar. He opened his eyes and looked over at the source of that last part.

Shiro blushed and scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. Grinning, Lance took an extravagant puff and winked. Shiro blushed even rosier and released some more of that beautiful scent. Lance had an awesome cigar prepared by his big brother, a spectacular sunset view, and a flustered new husband who most definitely wasn’t thinking about the distance to the ground anymore. Life could be so fucking great sometimes.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
James enjoyed the occasional visit to a smoking lounge with his grandfather, who had a cordial relationship with a tobacconist on the Westside; so he had an idea of what he liked, and of where his tastes and Grandfather’s tastes diverged. Grandfather, who liked a mellow smoke with just a hint of spice, chose the Connecticut wrapper and was now deep in conversation with the musician couple about whether absolute music could truly not be about anything when it was made by humans, whom Grandfather believed sought meaning in everything. James picked the Maduro, and was now appreciating the fermented Broadleaf’s full-bodied sweetness as he also appreciated the view. It was not just the view of a pastel sky darkening over the rolling hills which attracted his attention, although that was a glorious sight.

James had never before seen so many beautiful omegas gathered in one place, and he’d once escorted the cousin of a friend to a debutante ball, so it was not for want of opportunity. He had also never been growled at in quick succession by so many other alphas. Much to his chagrin, the only omegas in this company who weren’t married were Coran who was charming but a bit too old for him, Shiro’s dewy younger brother who it seemed from the growling was already being courted by Pidge, and James’s one-time adolescent crush whom he’d never expected to encounter again after he’d embarrassed the hell out of himself in a pedestrian tunnel one day, and whose fiancé was also one of the alphas who had growled at him.

How did everyone around him manage to pair off so easily? James liked to think he was a decent guy. He cared about his family, he cared about his company’s employees, he had nice manners. Okay, sometimes he had a short fuse, but he never lost it on omegas. Yet somehow even a notorious Don Juan like Shirogane managed to find and marry a pretty and high-spirited omega while James remained involuntarily single.

Perhaps it was James’s destiny to only live in proximity to true love, and he should just take Uncle Sablan up on his offer to set him up with his golf partner’s stepson. It was no secret that Saint Raible’s main qualifications for a mate were an illustrious family name and a generous spending allowance, but if he was rather mercenary in his approach, at least he was also attractive and intelligent. Marrying by convention might be better than remaining alone.

“It pains me to see a man look so unhappy while smoking a good cigar.” Lance’s brother, the beta one, leaned his wiry frame against the parapet where James had decided to park his ennui. “What troubles you, acere?”

James looked into the fellow’s face and saw only friendly interest. Lance’s brother was also alone at this party. Maybe he would understand. “I just wonder if I’ll ever have the sort of happiness that they have.” He nodded in the direction of the schmoozing couples on the terrace. “Some days it seems like a faraway dream.”

“My friend.” Lance’s brother patted James on the shoulder. “You should get yourself a horse. Once you have earned the loyalty of a good horse they will never let you down.”

“I have six,” James replied, sighing. “Even my stable master is getting married. He’s moving to San Diego in a month and I still haven’t found his replacement yet.”

Lance’s brother tilted his head thoughtfully. “No horseshit?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Do you think they’ll smash it?” Daniel asked quietly as they all watched Lance place his hands over Shiro’s to cut into the rosette-topped wedding cake. He looked down at Rachel beside him, exquisite in a rose pink dress that showed off her beautiful legs. She looked back at him in confusion.

“Absolutely not,” Haruka spoke up from his other side. “Feeding each other cake symbolizes how they will take care of one another in their marriage. To smash the pieces would be inauspicious.”

“Do they smash wedding cake in Cuba?” Daniel tried again to engage Rachel. 

This was the first time since they’d left New York that he’d been able to stand this close to her without one of her siblings looming up beside them. They were presently all distracted by the cake-cutting, and by one of the sister-in-law’s efforts to get good photographs of it. All night long they’d kept asking him bizarrely specific questions, like what his grade point average was in kindergarten. Who even remembered that kind of thing off the tops of their heads? Well, Maa Maa probably remembered, and Daniel could call her and ask, but then he’d have to explain to her that he was romantically interested in a girl who was not Tángrén.

“I suppose some of it gets smooshed when the ribbons are pulled out,” Rachel replied.

This was great! She was talking to him, telling him things besides ‘thanks’ and ‘turn left up there’! He had to seize this moment. Carpe diem.

“Ribbons?” 

She smiled angelically up at him. “Ribbons are baked into the cake for the unclaimed to pull out. One of them would have a ring attached to it. Whoever gets the ring is supposed to be the next one to be wed.”

“Oh.” Daniel looked again at the wedding cake. Shiro and Lance were plating the first two pink and white slices. “I don’t think this one has ribbons.” Another opportunity to enhance his romantic luck was dust in the wind.

“It’s alright.” Rachel touched his shoulder. “Lance threw his bunch of flowers. It would be redundant to have ribbons in the cake.”

Shiro and Lance fed each other bites of fluffy cake followed by crumb-cleaning smooches as the guests clapped and laughed.

Daniel was never ever washing this jacket. Rachel had glorified it with her touch at a wedding, that had to be lucky. If he ever needed to go to another formal event he’d just have to buy a new one.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“We want to thank everyone for being here to share this amazing day with us, and give a shout out to all of the wonderful people who made this whole thing possible.” Lance lifted a glass of champagne and smiled radiantly at the assembled guests. “I just married the most amazing alpha, and we could not have done any of this without you. To your health!”

Drinks and cheers were lifted all around, and then Shiro lifted his own glass again. 

“I’m in complete agreement with Lance. Nothing could ever hope to fully convey my appreciation to you all for helping me unite my destiny to his, but there are a few individuals whose roles were particularly indispensable and who deserve to be recognized for that. Lady Dayak.” Shiro lifted his glass. “Thank you for telling me what I needed to hear instead of what I wanted to hear.” 

Everyone toasted Nanette Dayak, and then Shiro turned to the gift table and picked up a huge bunch of red carnations wrapped in red tissue. “Oba-san,” he said, holding the carnations out toward Tatsuo, “without you, today would not have happened. Thank you for challenging me to be a man of my word.”

Shiro was not just an amazing alpha, he was also an amazing bluffer. Any witness unfamiliar with the actual sequence of events would never guess that his words held any element of irony. Tatsuo accepted the flowers and the subsequent toast with a cool expression, so he probably hadn’t missed the subtext.

Now it was Lance’s turn again. “We also want to thank Darrell Stoker. Darrell, without your help I might never have even met Shiro. You’ve been the cornerstone we’ve all relied on, and I’ll never forget it. Thank you for being you.” Lance took a second bunch of red carnations in red tissue from the gift table and handed it to Darrell, who looked surprised at being singled out, but accepted the blooms and the accolades with a smile.

Last but not least... 

“It’s safe to say that without our last honoree’s contribution we truly could not ever have hoped to meet, even by chance,” Shiro said.

“Nope, sure couldn’t,” Lance agreed, “because I wouldn’t have been born.”

The guests laughed. Vibiana blushed. Nobody was going to be surprised at the next part.

Well, maybe they’d surprised about one aspect of it.

“Mamá.” Lance took the canvas bag from the gift table and brought it over to his mother. “Thank you so much for being there for me. Even when it must have been so hard for you.”

Shiro came up behind him, a solid warmth at his back, and reached over his shoulder to lower the canvas so that the fragrant live blooms were visible. “Thank you for having him, and for raising him to be an exceptional human being.”

Vibiana burst into tears as she accepted the pot of live ginger lilies. Lance wrapped his arms around his mother and Shiro wrapped his arms around them both as the guests toasted enthusiastically.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ So darlin’, save the last dance for me ♬_

As Shiro held Lance close and maneuvered him around the crowded little dance floor, he felt grateful to Haruka for insisting on honoring the parents with flowers. He had been reluctant when the suggestion was put to him the previous day, not so much because the ritual of thanking the parents need not be observed in that particular manner in a mixed tradition wedding, but more because doing so would require him to thank his stepmother. Warrior philosophy of thanking one’s enemies notwithstanding, he just hadn’t really wanted to do that, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to make Lance do it. 

However, the sweet reaction from his new mother-in-law was worth the moment of biting his tongue. The fact that Omnia had somehow tracked down live ginger lilies at the last possible second sweetened the moment beyond compare. He was beginning to think that it was not just a raise that he ought to be providing for Omnia, but a promotion. 

But if he did that, then he’d need a new secretary.

“What a wonderful turnout on the dance floor for our last dance!” Daigo, their MC, had the mic again. “Now it’s time to line up in the grand foyer to send off our newlyweds into their new married life! There are baskets of dried lavender on the end tables next to the archways, so go ahead and grab yourselves a handful or two!”

Pondering over promotions and new hires would have to wait. Lance grinned up at Shiro with bright eyes, hair mussed from having the borrowed ornaments finally taken out after leaving them in for most of the day. Shiro took his hand as they stood at the far end of the foyer together. Then, laughing, they raced for the door as their friends and family cheered and rained fragrant flower petals over their heads.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Breathless with joy, Lance beat Shiro to the door of their honeymoon suite. One night in a corner suite with a city view was part of the wedding package Hunk had arranged for them; an accommodation they’d decided to go ahead and make use of because it spared Kai and Haruka from having to sleep with pillows over their heads and the bedside radio turned up to the highest decibel. Now Lance and Shiro were pretending not to know that many of their guests were presently on their way up to the penthouse to partake in a wild after-party, just as their friends and family were probably all pretending not to know that Lance and Shiro were on their way to have claiming sex.

Lance leaned against the door with his hips jutting out and smirked as Shiro walked right up into his body space. “You gonna carry me over the threshold?”

Just like on a night in the not too distant past, Shiro grasped Lance by the hips to lift him out of the way, but unlike that previous occasion, instead of placing him back on his feet, he hiked him up over his shoulder.

“Since you asked so demurely.” 

Shiro bent his other shoulder to press his way into the suite, carry a laughing Lance inside, and set him back down with a twirl, giving him a quick 360 degree view of their overnight digs. There was a sitting room where someone had managed to sneak away from the reception and transport all of their gifts, and a balcony looking out over the twinkling lights of the city. There was also a respectably-sized bathroom, and a bedroom with a king-sized bed. Every flat surface held a fresh vase of bridal akito roses. The bed even had creamy blush petals scattered across its coverlet.

Lance grabbed Shiro by the hand and began towing him towards the bed.

Shiro laughed. “Honey, don’t you want to relax with a glass of wine first?” In spite of those words, he walked right into Lance’s arms when he stopped in the bedroom and tugged him near. He smiled down at his bride. “We’ve got all night.”

“I’ve had enough wine.” Lance popped the button on Shiro’s tuxedo jacket and slid it off his shoulders. “Now I want you.” He grasped the flat ends of Shiro’s bowtie and pulled it loose, watching it flitter to the floor. “If it takes all night, I’m good with that.”

“If it takes all night,” Shiro agreed, before leaning down to kiss him. He tasted sweet-tart like their wedding cake.

Lance leaned up into the kiss, unfastening the buttons on Shiro’s shirt placket by feel alone until there was nothing but warm bare skin at his fingertips. Unlike the jacket, the shirt did not fall to the floor, suspended by the silver cufflinks at Shiro’s wrists. Lance stroked his hands down Shiro’s stomach, feeling the muscles ripple under his palms as he felt around the trouser waistband, until he found the side tabs and unbuttoned them. The boxer briefs underneath were light and silky to the touch, but not as silky as the skin Lance found underneath of those. Shiro rumbled deep in his chest when Lance pulled him free and stroked him.

“You’re overdressed.” Shiro pulled his lips away from Lance’s mouth and his hands away from Lance’s waist to set about divesting himself of the rest of his clothes. “Part of me wants to rip that frock off your body, and another part of me wants to donate it to the Smithsonian.”

Lance laughed as he removed his courting necklace and placed it on the dresser. “It’s got little buttons.” He reached behind his neck to unhook the top buttons, turning as he did so. “I might need your help with some of the lower ones.”

Shiro’s touch was warm against Lance’s back as he helped with the buttons and the frock came off with no ripping required. “You always have the most interesting underthings on,” Shiro murmured.

“It’s a modesty shaper.” Lance grinned as he sat on the bench at the foot of the bed, lifting each foot to undo the laces on his shoes. “Haven’t you ever seen one of these before?”

“I’ve never removed my bride’s wedding garments before.” Shiro knelt between Lance’s legs to help him unclip his stockings. “So the answer to your question is, no.” Shiro kissed each knee as the stockings came down, each ankle as the shoe slipped off. He nuzzled between Lance’s legs and looked up at him when he found the material too stretchy and resilient to easily get at what he wanted. “How the hell do I get this thing off you?”

Lance laughed again, and raised his left arm to undo the hidden zipper there. Shiro helped peel him out of the foundation garment like a ripe plantain. Then Lance crab-walked backward from the bench onto the bed, scattering flower petals as he went, with Shiro crawling up after him.

Shiro leaned over him, covering him with his warm body and heated scent. “Hi there, tsuereai.”

“Hi marido,” Lance replied before his mouth was too busy kissing for any further conversation.

Long and languorously they kissed, exploring with lips, teeth and tongues, occasionally tilting to find new angles that needed more thorough examination. Eventually, Shiro began to explore southward, swallowing Lance’s moans as they passed through his throat, leaving preparatory love bites on his neck, kissing a line down his sternum and pausing to lave attention on his nipples before continuing over quivering abdominal muscles to lie between his splayed thighs. He passed a while mouthing over the healing bite he’d left there, then reached up to offer Lance his hands to grasp before setting about making him lose his mind.

Lance’s head was still spinning from his first orgasm as a married man when he found his world literally spinning as Shiro turned him over and curled around him, one arm protectively circling his chest so that he didn’t face plant into the pillow.

“Shiro,” he gasped.

“All night,” Shiro whispered into the back of Lance’s neck, before rocking inside of him at an angle that he felt all the way to his core.

Shiro set a pace in time with their breaths, in and out, an endless caress in the most intimate of places. A slow pressure built up inside Lance until it finally released in a storm of contractions, and then slowly the pressure began to gather once more. The cycle repeated again and again until Lance’s skin dewed over and he felt light in his body. He was beginning to wonder if Shiro really could go all night when he felt resistance where Shiro was pushing into him. His knot was starting to form.

“Fuck,” Shiro breathed before pulling out.

Lance found the energy to writhe onto his back before Shiro returned to him, sliding back into place as Lance wrapped his arms and legs around him.

“Lance,” he rumbled.

“Yes!” Lance craned his neck to expose a primary scent gland. “I want it, give it to me!”

Shiro closed his lips around the gland, sucking the skin into his mouth as his knot swelled, forcing his thrusts to become shorter and faster. Lance’s belly coiled in wait for the mother of all orgasms, and it didn’t disappoint. As waves of pleasure crashed through his system, Shiro’s teeth clamped down on his neck and Lance shouted as pleasure turned to pain turned to pleasure again from endorphins chasing the oxytocin flooding his bloodstream. Shiro chased his own release with sudden frenzy, not letting go of Lance’s neck until his hips finally stuttered to a halt. He breathed heavily against the fresh claim mark, hands still gripping Lance’s hips as he shot so much ejaculate inside of him that it began to leak out around the knot.

Lance’s head reeled as he felt the dampness of his own walls clenching around Shiro’s cock along with the dribble of cum escaping onto his own thighs. He felt Shiro’s hands clutching him even as he felt his own slippery skin underneath of those hands. This was a thousand times more intense than the temporary claim mark had been. How did people negotiate so much contradictory sensory input without becoming delirious from it?

Some gossamer-veiled passage of time later, Shiro lifted his head from where he’d been licking at the wound to clean it with enzymes from his saliva, leaning his weight on his forearms as disquiet wavered across the bond. “Lance?” His voice came from two sources, giving it an odd resonance that reminded Lance of that morning they’d made their fateful deal when Lance was underwater in the bathtub. “Are you okay, honey?”

Lance reached up and squeezed Shiro’s cheeks to make his lips pucker like a fish. “Say platypus.”

“You’re hormone drunk,” was what he said instead, his lips popping on the word ‘hormone’ and refusing to fully close on the word ‘drunk.’

Lance snorted on a laugh, then tried to imitate Shiro’s deeper voice. “Is that a yes, Lance?” He felt Shiro’s spike of confused amusement through the bond and let go of his cheeks, giggling.

“You’re so ridiculous.” Shiro rolled them so that he was lying on his back and could hold Lance across his chest. “I adore you. Do you want to bite me too?”

Lance nodded, enjoying how the vibration of Shiro’s voice sounded like it was coming from both beneath and within his own chest. “But I should be giving you a dicking when I do it.”

That got a puzzled laugh out of Shiro.

“So it won’t hurt!” Lance said. “It’s only fair.”

Shiro kissed him. “Okay.”

Lance grinned in anticipation. “Yeah?”

Shiro hummed. “Yeah.”

Even in his hormone drunk afterglow Lance knew he was being humored, but that was okay because he had some experience being the top and he was going to rock Shiro’s world. He preferred bottom, but topping every once in a while was a nice switch up. He didn’t intend on squandering the moment.

Eventually the knot went down and Shiro slipped out, leaving a puddle of seminal fluid and slick on the coverlet. They were going to have to strip this bed if they wanted to sleep in it at any point before checkout time. Whoever had to clean this room after them deserved the biggest gratuity ever. Lance regained some control of his senses but still felt euphoric, his prick rising like the sun at the prospect of getting cozy with his handsome hubby’s moon.

Shiro, still relaxed from cumming like a geyser, was completely affable about being manhandled onto his stomach with a pillow wedged under his hips. He leaned his chin on his crossed forearms while Lance admired his lifted rear.

“You have the most amazing ass.” How had he not noticed before just how amazing it truly was? Maybe because he was usually grabbing that ass from a less than ideal vantage point to behold its pulchritude.

“Why thank you.”

“No, I mean...” Lance ran his hands over the booty’s impossible planes. “It’s not just perky. It’s like a shelf.” Some men had asses that could deflect a bouncing quarter. Shiro had an ass that could easily support some loose change and a glass of water.

Lance continued to run his hands over the smooth, firm skin, fascinated by the way Shiro’s well-developed gluteus medius made his butt kind of look like it was pointing at the ceiling. Then Shiro started flexing his impressive glutes, first one then the other, and Lance felt his playful smugness dance across the bond. Lance traced a fingertip down his crease and Shiro stopped flexing, a sense of watchful waiting replacing the smuggery. Lance’s finger pad reached the pucker, which fluttered at his touch.

“Have you ever had anything back here before?” Lance rubbed his fingertip in a circular motion.

Shiro shifted ever so slightly under his ministrations. “I’ve had lovers stick their fingers up there before, sure.”

Lance withdrew his hand to reach between his own legs for some slick. “Did you like it?”

“When they knew what they were doing, yeah, I did like it.”

Lance smiled because he definitely knew what he was doing. With one long, slicked up finger he caressed, breached, curled and– 

“Oh my fuck,” Shiro grunted as a jolt of pleasure tingled along both of their spines across the bond.

“Patience,” Lance teased. “We’ll get there.”

Shiro looked over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow. “Did you just lay a sex pun on me during foreplay?”

“What better time?”

Shiro became too preoccupied by his prostate massage to offer a verbal sally, but his eyes and some strong emotions traveling back along the bond promised sexy retribution and Lance was looking forward to it. But first he had to get Shiro adjusted to more fingers. Lance’s omega erection was nowhere near the size of his alpha’s, but it was a damn sight bigger than one finger, and Shiro’s back door did not have the thicker mucous membrane or self-lubricating advantages of Lance’s downstairs equipment.

He slowly added one more finger at a time until Shiro was taking three and lifting his hips off the pillow in an effort to get Lance to speed it up a little. His mounting arousal and frustration at Lance’s restraint were charmingly apparent both in his posture and through the bond, which Lance was appreciating more and more by the minute.

“Lance I swear, if you don’t get on with it I’m going to flip you over and sit on you.”

Lance grinned. “You’re such a bossy bottom.”

“Lance!”

“Don’t worry querido.” Lance ran a soothing hand along Shiro’s spine, which he arched into like a big sexy cat. “I got you.”

Lance straddled Shiro’s outstretched legs and got on with it, and discovered that Shiro was much tighter than Lance could have possibly imagined, and hot as a furnace. He’d topped before, but always with other omegas, which was a different kind of tight heat; wetter and with a more elastic resistance all the way to the tip. Instead of ridges of muscle massaging his entire penis, Lance encountered two rings of muscle which compressed his shaft with such friction that he had to hold still when his pelvis met Shiro’s posterior. This was not just to give Shiro a moment to adjust, but also to reach down and tug on his own balls so that he could hopefully last longer than a few seconds.

“You doing okay babe?” Ball-tugging accomplished, Lance smoothed his hands down Shiro’s buff sides.

“Yes,” Shiro gasped, clutching the bolster pillows at the head of the bed. “Please don’t stop.”

When he thought he could move without cumming instantly, Lance draped himself across Shiro’s warm back and commenced with the fucking. Hugging him from behind gave him a good angle to repeatedly rub against his prostate, sending waves of pleasure back to Lance through the bond. He lowered his sweaty forehead to Shiro’s neck, where his rich scent was building in potency. Then he reached around Shiro’s hip and under the pillow for his cock.

Shiro was hard as a statue under Lance’s touch. He curled his fingers around Shiro’s girth and stroked in time with his gliding thrusts; felt exhilaration spiraling towards release for both of them as Shiro humped into Lance’s hand like a connecting rod.

“Lance,” he breathed, “I’m gonna...”

“Go ahead baby, it’s alright, I still got you.”

Lance held on until he felt Shiro spasming around him so powerfully he couldn’t hold back anymore, and then he sunk his teeth into the primary scent gland at the juncture of Shiro’s neck and shoulder. Shiro cried out as he came on the pillow and all over Lance’s hand. Copper filled Lance’s mouth and a slightly disorienting sensation rushed through him as Shiro experienced the temporary doubling effect that had whammied Lance earlier.

With no knot to impede him, Lance was able to roll off almost immediately and cuddle up to Shiro’s side, pressing his floof out of his glazed eyes with the hand that didn’t have love juice all over it. Shiro smiled back dreamily, the overall bond sense coming from him sort of hazy. Lance wondered if he was now the one who was hormone drunk.

“Thank you for giving it to me honey, you’re so sweet to me.”

Oh yeah, he was blissed out alright.

“You’re welcome anytime, querido.” Lance snuggled in closer, throwing an arm around his new mate. “Any time at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another wedding on the way. Here comes the Megazord of weddings.


	14. Glory Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise family, surprise revelations, and surprise bachelor parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everybody for reading, kudoing and commenting! Shout outs to luminiferousaether, PyroInfinite, Yo_buddy, and Inoshi!

  
After a night and morning during which they could barely keep their hands off each other for long enough to sleep, Shiro and Lance finally rose, showered, had shower sex, and then took a late breakfast in the sitting room while they opened the presents which Shinji, Kai and Izu had carted over the previous evening sometime between the cake cutting and the last dance. Lance lounged on the loveseat sipping coffee while wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe. Shiro thought of how easy it would be to just stand from his chair, step around the coffee table, and undo that sash. Lance looked up at Shiro’s lustful regard and smiled, waggling a finger.

“I can feel you thinking about it from here, querido,” he said, “and while I would love to take you up on it, we have to check out of this room in about an hour and then I have to go do honor attendant stuff.”

Shiro sighed in resignation. If it had merely been an issue of checking out of the room, he’d have just extended the reservation, but they had come out here for someone else’s wedding after all. “We need to have our honeymoon after this is all over.”

Lance bounced happily on the loveseat as Shiro fought and won an inner battle to retain control of his sexual urges. “That’ll be so much fun,” Lance enthused, “I can’t wait.”

Neither could Shiro. His bum was still a little sore, but now that he knew what he’d been missing he was definitely talking Lance into doing that again at some point in the near future. In the present, he would just help his mate unwrap more wedding gifts.

Lance’s family had given them the impressive fruit of their labors in the bridal frock, the photography session, the cigars, a box of which had been set aside just for them, and a picture of Lance’s office that had been taken on somebody’s cell phone. The office had been cleared out and the library ladder restored to its track. Based on the presence of Marco and Rachel posing heroically in the foreground of the shot, it was a fair guess they’d done the work.

Coran, Allura and Shay had given them a lovely silver portrait frame which would be perfect for displaying one of the photographs that Shiro’s new sister-in-law had taken. Lady Dayak had presciently gifted them a full boxed set of gold-foil ‘thank you’ note cards. Shiro’s colleagues at Hawkins Aircraft Company had gotten them a sizable gift card from a major department store, Darrell had gotten them a gift card from a big box electronics store and Izu had gotten them a gift card from a major online retailer. Shiro thought perhaps Lance might like to use those toward purchasing furnishings and equipment for his new office. 

Shinji had surprised them by quietly covering all of Allura and Shay’s transportation costs, which he confessed to in a winky note ( _“so you do not worry”_ ) attached to a gift box of Dom Pérignon. Hunk, Keith and the Shinobus had gone in together on an absolutely gorgeous seven piece sake set enameled with a motif of cranes in flight. Shiro suspected Hunk and Keith’s guiding hands there, as Haruka and Kai would have been more inclined to gift cash money, which Shiro would have then been obliged to explain to Lance was not a sign of apathy but of respect. Perhaps Shiro and Lance could use the set to serve the mini-barrel of sake that Tatsuo had gifted them, along with packets of konbu and two types of dried fish wrapped in rice paper, a roll of hemp linen, a suehiro fan, and a shūgi-bukuro envelope tied with an intricate gold and silver knot which Shiro predicted would contain betrothal money in yen banknotes of odd denominations. It seemed Shiro’s idle suspicion that Tatsuo had traveled in expectation of attending a yuino had actually been correct.

By giving them the betrothal gifts he had already prepared, Tatsuo was essentially giving them his tacit acceptance, not his wholehearted approval, but it would suffice. Shiro parceled out the final gifts from that set, which from the size and shape were probably clothing. At least Tatsuo had the grace not to have used a shoestring knot to secure them. Shiro noticed Lance puzzling over how to get his package open.

“Here, let me.”

Lance handed back the package gratefully. “I’m not sure how you're getting into those packages, I don't think I could have dealt with those knots without scissors.”

“It’s supposed to be difficult to unravel,” Shiro explained as he carefully unwrapped both of their presents, setting aside the intact mizuhiki, which could join some other keepsakes in a shadow box that Haruka was planning on assembling. “If it were easy, that would mean Tatsuo was wishing us many returns of the day. That would be a lucky wish to celebrate something like a successful business venture, but not for a betrothal gift.” It would, in fact, have been an insult which at one time Shiro would have not put past Tatsuo, but he was learning that he did not know his stepmother quite as well as he thought he did.

The packages contained the clothing symbolic of virtue which Shiro had expected: sendaihira hakama pants for Shiro, and for Lance a silk fukuro obi with wisteria embroidered across it in silver thread. The fukuro obi was a practical choice of formal obi to have gifted Lance. He would be able to wear it at most functions when he might be called upon to wear kimono of varying degrees of formality, unlike the higher ranked maru obi which was only meant to be worn for the most ceremonial of formal occasions. Shiro honestly wasn’t sure whether Tatsuo was jibing them since the maru obi was not beyond his means to acquire; or if he’d really meant to select an obi that would be more useful for the trousseau of a bride who did not yet possess any kimono. The wisteria pattern was appropriately auspicious, so Shiro decided to give Tatsuo the benefit of the doubt on that one.

The Holts had packed their gift in a large cardboard box full of packing peanuts and Shiro was instantly suspicious. Both of them had impish senses of humor. He cautiously rummaged around in the peanuts (which smelled strongly like corn) and came up with two glass tumblers etched with measurements of how high to fill them according to how drunk the imbiber wanted to become. Cute. That couldn’t be all that was in that ocean of green packing peanuts, could it?

Those two actually might have found it hilarious to pack two tiny tumblers into a giant box, except that the box had felt heavier than two tumblers could account for when Shiro had hefted it off the coffee table. He met Lance’s eyes across from him and then they both started digging through packing peanuts together until their hands met around the neck of a bottle, which they lifted out of its biodegradable cocoon.

It was a half-gallon bottle of rum, with a sticky note on the front upon which had been scrawled: _In case of marital emergency, twist cap to open_.

Adorable. When Pidge married Kuro, Shiro would make sure to return the favor. Wait, what the hell was he thinking? Unbidden, a mental image of Pidge and Kuro standing before a Spock impersonator entered his mind. _“Dearly beloved, we have gathered here together to bear witness to this couple’s Pon Farr.”_

Lance’s laughter saved him from his overactive imagination. “I guess going to bed drunk beats going to bed mad.”

Shiro chuckled and shook his head as he reached for the last package on the coffee table. “What could this be?” It was wrapped in his own preferred furoshiki pattern of silver fans. A calligraphy card had been tucked into the top knot, which Shiro removed and read silently. “It’s from Kuro.” He had used the kanji for ‘spear’ for the recipient, but the meaning was clear to Shiro.

“It’s for you.” Shiro handed the package over to Lance.

“Just me?” Lance accepted the package with big eyes.

Shiro shrugged. “His status as a junior member of my house means he’s not really obligated to give me a present.”

Lance untied the furoshiki and lifted out a length of heavy silk jacquard that, when he turned it in his hands, was revealed to be double-sided. One side was dark blue, the other deep red, each with botanical patterns picked out in the alternating side’s color.

The pattern was not typical of obis, and if Shiro was any judge of such things he pegged it as European in origin; but the garment’s shape and other elements in its craftsmanship made it obvious what it was intended to be. “That’s a maru obi.”

Lance folded the obi to his chest, closing his eyes. The bond sense thrumming between them left Shiro’s chest feeling tight.

“Lance?”

Lance opened his eyes, which shone with emotion. “He made this for me.”

Shiro was floored. “Kuro did?”

Lance nodded, sniffling. “With his own two hands.”

Looking at his mate’s happy tears, Shiro reflected that perhaps Kuro had given him a gift after all.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Alana approvingly watched Krolia roll and cut flower shapes out of gumpaste, as she herself worked on trimming and shaping the petals. Krolia had long, dexterous fingers, and was a lightning fast learner. Once she was done cutting out all the shapes that Alana wanted to use for the spray of sugar plumeria, she’d teach her the rest. Between the two of them, they’d make an astounding multi-tiered cake that people would be talking about for ages, she was sure of it.

“Hello the house!” Jin stepped around the corner from the foyer into the dining area with a suitcase in each hand. Right behind him strode their two house guests who’d be staying in the kids’ old bedrooms until after the wedding.

“Leia!” Alana immediately left off curling a sugar leaf to rush over and throw her arms around her sister, who barely had time to put down Hiwa’s cat carrier before getting tackle-hugged. They laughed and scented each other over the cat’s annoyed meows. Leia’s sweet jasmine fragrance surrounded Alana as it had in childhood.

“And who is this beautiful lady?”

Alana sent a quelling look over her sister’s shoulder at their other house guest. “This is Keith’s mother, Krolia.” She turned to Krolia, expecting to do some damage control, only to see from the arch of her eyebrows and the hand on her hip that the other omega already had the beta’s measure: all icing no cake. “Krolia, I’d like you to meet my sister Leia, and this is Cousin Gorou.”

Gorou was Jin’s first cousin on his mother’s side; brawny but also kind of sweetly goofy as men with Seidou lineage tended to be. Gorou’s parents had died in a car accident when the boy was barely eighteen, and Jin, bless his soul, had gone out of his way to look out for him ever since. Okay, technically Gorou was a man, but it was difficult for Alana to stop thinking of him as a boy, especially when he looked so much like her own son and was so close to him in age.

“I’m so pumped to be a groomsman in the wedding!” Gorou shouted excitedly.

“You...” Alana was thrown. “Um, what?” They already had exactly two senior groom’s attendants to go with their exactly two senior bride’s attendants.

“Heh.” Jin scratched the back of his head and looked off to the side, a dead giveaway that he had a role in bumbling them all into this situation. “Well, you know, Gorou just got so enthusiastic about wanting to help with the wedding, and when he suggested being a groomsman in the truck, it just seemed like... Wow! You know?”

Wow. “You know, I think you’ll need to excuse me and Krolia for a moment, we need to go and make a phone call. Wedding stuff.”

She met Krolia’s eyes and saw the same jolt of wedding panic reflected back at her. They needed to find another bride’s attendant, and they needed to find that person fast, the sugar flowers would have to wait. They had Leia in the house now to help them catch up on the cake. But who would be able and willing to fill in as an attendant with less than two days to prepare?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro couldn’t believe his ears. “You want Kuro to stay here with me for two days?”

“Your chaste room is free now that you have wed your bride,” Tatsuo blithely pointed out. 

Tatsuo, Shinji, Kuro and Keith had been waiting for them in the Penthouse Suite when Shiro and Lance returned from their night of wedded bliss. Now Tatsuo, Shinji and Shiro sat together in the parlor sipping excellent coffee, which Lance had made because Haruka had gone to drop off their marriage license and was now at the department store picking up the outfits for their honor attendant duties. After sweetly thanking them for their gifts, Lance had taken Kuro and Keith back to that very chaste room which Tatsuo had just mentioned to pack up Lance’s things and, if the buzzy feeling on the other end of the bond was any clue, show off Lance’s new claim mark and confab about its acquisition. Shiro really hoped they weren’t getting too graphic about it in front of his little brother.

It was true that Lance would no longer be needing that room, but, “What’s wrong with the room in the Governor’s Suite?”

“An associate of mine from California has learned of my presence here and invited me to assist with a pop-up music festival in Ventura County,” Shinji cut in cheerfully. “It is a valuable opportunity to gain new contacts for me, and it will be better for me if I am residing closer to the venues during that time. Tatsuo has agreed to accompany me on this side trip, and as we have no desire to leave Kuro all by himself in the Governor’s Suite, we wish to check out and have him stay with you until our return.”

Good for Shinji, make that money, but, “What about Izu?”

Tatsuo muttered something in Nihongo that sounded like ‘night crawling.’ Shinji coughed and said, “He will be staying with his new lady friend.”

Love certainly did find a way.

“I am honored that you would entrust me with Kuro’s care,” Shiro said. It was a welcome development in light of recent problems, but why in the world would they trust him exclusively with Kuro’s care? There had to be a catch, besides the one of having a little brother underfoot for the first days of Shiro’s marriage.

Shinji twinkled at him. “Think of all the things you may learn from one another.”

“Yes,” Tatsuo agreed, with a decidedly more shrewd sparkle in his eyes. “Think of what Kuro-kun may learn from observing his oni-san.”

Oh, it all made sense now. Shinji had jumped on this job (or quite possibly sought it out) in order to give Shiro a window of opportunity to get Kuro a meeting with the Saturday school proctor without any interference from Tatsuo, with the side bonus of those two getting some alone-time together. As for Tatsuo, he most likely viewed this as the greatest cock block ever conceived.

Lucky for Shiro, he was married to a pro.

“I will ensure your trust in me is well-placed,” he promised. 

He would also ensure that the lock on the penthouse’s master suite worked to a fare-thee-well.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
In Lance’s soon-to-be-former bedroom, things had taken a dramatic turn. One minute Lance had been assuring Keith and a wide-eyed Kuro that the claim bite didn’t hurt very much or for very long, though Keith didn’t know how far to trust that testimony because Lance had a high pain tolerance that had been infamous among their former social set. The next minute Keith had been taking a video chat call from his mother that saw them all huddling around the phone on Lance’s soon-to-be-former bed.

“Maybe we could promote Lena from junior bridesmaid to honor attendant?” Keith suggested. Lena’s dress looked a little different than the other attendants, but not that different.

_“Then we would have to remove Manny from the processional,”_ Alana leaned over Krolia’s shoulder to remind them. Mana was supposed to be Lena’s counterpart as the junior groomsman.

“I wish I could stay for your wedding,” Kuro said wistfully. “Then I would be able to help you.”

Keith offered him a comforting shoulder bump just as someone knocked on the door.

“Lance, can I talk to you for a sec?” It was the hubba hubba hubby.

“I’ll be back in just a tic,” Lance promised, before going out into the anteroom to see what was up.

_“I’m not seeing much of an option beyond asking one of Hunk’s other attendants to step down,”_ Alana fretted.

“No, don’t do that,” Keith insisted, “that’ll break Hunk’s heart. We’ll come up with something.”

Outside the door, Lance squealed in excitement. Keith hoped like hell they weren’t having sex out there. He wasn’t sure if anybody had given Kuro the sex talk yet and he didn’t think that responsibility was something that should just be sprung on a person.

_“What about one of your new friends,”_ Krolia asked, _“Matt and Peg?”_

“Pidge,” Kuro quickly corrected, then blushed.

“I don’t know them very well yet,” Keith said. He was pretty sure he knew why she hadn't asked about any of his older friends. 

He and the Holts did have a great time together at the after-party, enough so that their names had come up when Keith had called his mom after he got home. While goofing around at the party it had come out that Pidge didn’t live all that far away from Hunk and Keith, so on the spur of the moment they’d invited the Holts to their wedding. The four had parted on a note of promising to hang out more, but that level of friendliness was a far cry from asking someone to take on the responsibility of being a bridesmaid out of the blue. Even with his unrepentant refusal to bow to conventions, Keith knew that much and understood the reason why.

Lance burst back into the room grinning his biggest shit-eating grin. “Guess what?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hunk sat in his office with Allura and Nadia Rizavi, and although they all had steaming mugs of coffee in their hands, this was not a casual chit chat. This was serious business.

“I can’t believe I might walk down the aisle to “Said I Loved You But I Lied” because of a licensing issue.”

Because parts of Hunk’s wedding would be held with an open door policy extended to the entire hotel’s roster, those parts of the event were being considered public instead of private, according to the Performing Rights Organization who owned the license to the tracks they’d initially thought of using. As fate would have it, this was not the same organization they already had a blanket license agreement with. That meant Hunk would either have to dig up the funds necessary to license his original picks at the last minute, dig through the catalog of the organization they already had an agreement with for something suitable using up time they did not really have to spare, or just use the music they’d already licensed for Lubos’s now-canceled event. 

He’d already looked into classical music thinking ‘public domain’ only to discover that there was a distinction between classical compositions and classical performances where copyright law was concerned. Classical performances that were in the public domain tended to be so old as to sound like they were being played on a Victrola. Their wedding may be the day after Halloween, but Hunk wasn’t after a haunted house theme. Even though he suspected that Keith would just think it was funny and probably would have dug a black wedding gown. Maybe someday when they renewed their vows.

Lubos had demanded a playlist of sentimental ballads when he’d started his booking, heavy on the bombast. He’d also demanded that the hotel be the ones to negotiate those licenses with the PRO who owned them, adding to their A/V team’s workload because a number of those songs were not under the blanket license; but now that entire playlist was covered for the day in question in the hotel’s name. That didn’t really help Hunk with the current situation, unless he changed his already verging on over-the-top wedding into a themed wedding based on music videos. He’d actually run that idea by Hina when he’d called her to warn her that she needed to review her playlists for the reception. She’d just laughed and asked him where he thought he was going to find a lion and a gondola in less than 48 hours and then told him to trust her, and that was the end of that discussion.

“We could just have all the guests sing “Here Comes The Bride” on cue,” Nadia suggested. “You know they’d do it for you.” She paused with a playful smirk. ♪ “You know it’s true, everything they do, oh, they’d do it for you.” ♪

“Yeah, no, I’m not making my guests sing on cue.” Nobody ever remembered the lyrics past ‘all dressed in white’ anyway. Something about serenely marching in soft glowing light? Or was it gently gliding a radiant sight? Hunk’s imagination supplied a technicolor film reel of Keith strutting down the aisle toward him in mantyhose with a lion slinking along beside him. 

_♬ I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through ♬_

“Why not just allow me and Shay to play the processional and recessional for you.” Allura’s voice brought Hunk out of his daydream. “Then you can use the pop ballads for during the cocktail hour.”

“You’re a guest.” Hunk wasn’t sure if he should feel honored or concerned that he had to keep reminding people of that. “And Shay is my best woman.”

“We wouldn’t need to play live,” Allura assured him. “We could arrange and record a short composition that’s in the public domain. I believe we’ve just enough time to get it done if we can rent a few hours in a studio.”

Their summit was interrupted by a tap on the door, which Hunk had left slightly ajar because he didn’t want any of his subordinates to think he was too busy to help them while he was trying to sort out what was, when it came right down to it, a personal matter. An extremely important personal matter, but still. He was at work.

“Come on in,” Hunk said.

The door swung open to reveal Shinji Ise. “Please pardon my intrusion. I only meant to thank you for all of your kind assistance while my family sojourned in your lovely hotel, but I could not help but to overhear that you may require the use of a recording studio for your own nuptials.” Shinji smiled benevolently. “I may be able to assist you with that.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro took his coffee and tablet into the living room, calling up Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major on the streaming service before settling back with the cashmere blanket he’d asked Lance to scent for him before leaving. He and Keith were escorting Kuro down the street to be fitted for a frock by Coran, who somehow was at work and not in the least bit worse for wear from the previous two days’ unbridled drinking. Lance claimed it was because Lady Dayak hadn’t called him yet and he was trying to distract himself. Haruka had decided to wait for them there, and Kai was with her, so Shiro was momentarily alone in the suite.

Shiro had originally intended to spend a couple of hours visiting Hawkins Aircraft Company and sitting in on some meetings before hopefully rejoining his mate for dinner, but Shinji had stopped him in the hallway after sending Tatsuo down ahead of him in the elevator. “You should revisit Saeko’s files,” he’d said. “Tatsuo was not the only or first one for whom your father requested a deep background check.”

So Shiro sat back among the couch cushions, feeling cozy in the soft and sweet smelling blanket, with a mug of coffee warming one hand and an electronic device warming the other. The notion that his father had a PI investigate his mother even as he was courting her was no surprise to him. As he began to read the files he’d forwarded via his phone, he found himself also unsurprised at most of what he was finding there. 

He’d known that his maternal grandmother Julia had been Nisei from San Francisco, which was where she’d met Shiro’s British grandfather, Walter. It was through her that Shiro had acquired his U.S. citizenship, since she’d returned to San Francisco after her husband died, enrolling her fourteen year-old daughter in high school there and reestablishing the chain of inherited citizenship. After Julia passed on, Lisa moved back to England for conservatory, then opted for a spousal visa when she moved to Japan, so that she could maintain her foreign passports. Lisa had enjoyed taking Shiro on overseas trips during his school’s spring vacations, when Ryu would often be too wrapped up in new construction projects to be able to spend much time with them.

Shiro had also known that his maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Kurogane, and that her parents had been Isamu and Aimi, though he had not known they’d been living in Los Angeles when they’d met. It was fascinating to consider that happenstance had seen him meet and marry his own spouse in the same city where his great-grandparents had also met and married. Saeko had included a detailed family tree going back several generations on Lisa’s side of the family. Isamu’s parents had remained in Japan and it would appear that Shiro had distant cousins from that branch living in Osaka. 

Aimi’s parents had emigrated with her and her younger sister in tow. While Aimi had eventually relocated to San Francisco with Isamu, Aimi’s sister Hotaru had remained in Los Angeles county and it looked as if Shiro also had a cousin still residing in the area descended from that sister, who had married a man named Daisuku– 

“Kogane?!”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Thanks for agreeing to see us on such short notice,” Keith said.

Their excuse to Lance’s alpha had been a bit of a ruse. Yes, they’d met with Haruka and Kai at the department store and Coran had taken Kuro’s measurements. That had taken them less than fifteen minutes. There just wasn’t enough time left before the wedding to do much more than ensure that the orange frock wouldn’t trip Kuro when he tried to walk in it, and it was a lucky thing that Kuro would look good even wearing a burlap sack. Then they’d left the department store to go to a dance studio a few blocks away where Haruka had been able to finagle them a private session.

“No sweat.” Their personal instructor was a tiny little beta named Klaizap who wore his hair in double man buns. “I’ll be honest, when I heard what song you were using I was curious to see how it could turn out. It’s a cute routine that should be pretty simple to learn for a bridal party with your experience.” They had told him that most of them already had dance experience, but not whence that experience had come for some of them. “But they didn’t use a lot of hand movements in the video because of their instruments. I found some footage of them performing the same choreography on a couple of music-dance shows, but all that really cleared up for me was the footwork. Plus I don’t know how you want to handle the breakdance solo during the intro, if you want to do it yourself or assign a move to each member of your bridal squad. We might have to improvise.” He looked enthusiastic about that prospect.

Keith met eyes with each member of his squad and found cheerful determination there. Well, Lance was cheerfully determined. Haruka was hardcore determined and Kuro was practically bouncing off the ceiling. “We’re game.”

“Awesome!” Klaizap picked up the remote control on the bench by the mirror and used it to call up their song on the rack-mounted sound system. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro was not used to sitting so high in the driver’s seat of a vehicle. Supposedly people liked driving with this vantage point, but Shiro decided that he preferred the low-slung bucket seat of a sports car, or the backseat of a limo. He had just managed to catch Shinji before he left the hotel, and after hearing about the plan to save Hunk and Keith’s wedding music, insisted on helping out. Part of that involved trading vehicles with Shinji. They’d rented from the same agency, so it was a simple matter of a phone call and an exchange of keys.

Now Shinji and Tatsuo were breezing their way two hours up the coast in the Camaro, while Shiro hunched behind the wheel of an aptly named Toyota Sequoia driving Allura and Shay through freeway traffic to a small recording studio in Burbank. It had been the best solution to the problem of how to transport Shay’s harp. Hopefully Lance wouldn’t be upset at the temporary loss of the Camaro. It had been done with helping Keith in mind, after all.

Shiro still couldn’t believe he had a cousin who could have used his help all this time, and he’d had no idea until the fates conspired to have them meet by chance. He wasn’t sure how to go about making his absence up to Keith, but helping ensure that his wedding went off without any problems seemed like a good a place to start.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
When Herreh had rather snottily informed her that she had a guest and that no, he would not make her excuses for her and send him away, Narti had braced herself for another confrontation with Throk. She’d so hoped she could fly off into the sunset with her cat and live in blissful marital separation for the rest of her days. She should have known that stubborn ass would try to find her anywhere she went. Throk was not the most perceptive soul, but neither was he a complete dimwit or else she’d never have enjoyed his company for long enough to marry him. Talent in the sack wasn’t a high enough qualification to aspire to sharing a bedroom permanently, at least not in Narti’s book.

When she reached the reception foyer, a tall nattily-dressed man who was most definitely not Throk unfolded himself from the salon sofa. Relief brought a smile to Narti’s face as she hurried to greet him. “Dad.”

“Narti.” Dr. Ulaz bestowed a look of reserved fondness on his only child. “It is good to see you. Would you care to accompany your old man for a late supper?”

“Sure, let me get my coat.” Narti’s mind was awhirl as she went to the first floor coat closet. What was he doing so far away from his post at NIH’s main campus? The man never took a vacation.

They walked several blocks over to a late night café, speaking in neutral tones on neutral topics. Neither of them had ever had much flair for small talk, unless it was sarcasm, which they both took care not to wield against each other (most of the time). They pressed through the crowd and ordered at the counter, then took their bottles of juice to a table near the back. The place was packed elbow to elbow with a lively mix of locals and tourists. They’d have to lean across the table to hear each other speak.

Narti was not bothered by the impediment presented by the noise. She did love her father and was happy to see him, but he had warned her against marrying Throk, and if he was here to say he told her so she would just as soon avoid that conversation by selectively pretending she’d forgotten how to read lips. That was why she was unprepared when Thace sat down on one side of their little square table, and that retired soldier who’d been chatting up Kinkade at Lotor’s cocktail party sat down on the other.

“What is this?” Narti could barely hear her own voice in the din, but she knew her father could read lips as well as she could. Her mother had been hearing impaired and had not always spoken audibly, so it had been a valuable skill in their household, along with the sign language native to mama’s village and a sprinkling of ASL.

Ulaz regarded her soberly through those small-framed eyeglasses he favored that always made his face look even thinner than it actually was. “I only want to help you, Narti.”

“Just hear us out,” Thace cut in. “We can offer you protection in return for your assistance.”

Narti didn’t have to ask to know what sort of protection Thace was offering. It was the sort that could get her out of Honerva’s reach in exchange for first braving Merla’s crosshairs.

On the other hand, it was also the sort that could get Throk out of her hair, probably for good.

“I have a condition,” she said.

“We’re prepared to rescue your cat from the row house.” The retired soldier (or was he?) looked aggrieved at the prospect of initiating an extraction op on a domestic feline.

Saving Kova’s nine lives was great motivation, but, “I have a second condition.”

Fluffy eyebrows were raised around the table. “What is it you want?” Thace asked.

“I want Acxa included in this deal.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Nice take.” Te-osh, their audio engineer for the afternoon, gave the thumbs up from behind the control room observation window. “Clear and crisp with warm highs.”

Allura returned her thumbs up and replied that they were ready to call this track complete. As their designated leader for this session, it was her call to make. The studio’s live room had a Yamaha semi-concert grand piano in it, so Shay and Allura had been able to slot Shiro into an arrangement for trio of Massenet’s “Méditation” from _Thaïs_ for the processional. A passionately melodic piece with a strong violin solo, it was well-suited for a stripped-down adaptation.

Now that they had the processional dealt with, they were back to their debate about the recessional.

“I stand by my opinion that we should use the Handel,” Allura said. “It’s got a celebratory feel, which is exactly what you want for a recessional where you’re trying to stir a large audience to rise up out of their comfortable seats and clap as the newlyweds are dashing past them for a costume change.”

She wanted to use the Allegro section of the Overture from _Music for the Royal Fireworks_. Shiro agreed that it would be an excellent choice, especially for such a large venue as the ballroom. The selection started with a dignified cadence, before erupting into increasingly dizzying scale runs, perfect for descending off a stage dashingly. However, Allura kept forgetting something.

“We don’t have any brass instruments or tympani,” Shiro reminded her, again. To get the full, reverberant sound Allura was imagining, they really needed more instruments. They didn’t have a lot of time for overdubbing.

“Actually,” Shay spoke up, “I know a way we might be able to get more instruments if we can get more time, and some extra chairs in here.”

“I can get you the chairs,” Te-osh said from the control room. “If we can take a short break I can book you more time too.”

“I’m good for it,” Shiro said quickly. Shinji had set up their initial session.

“Then let’s do this!” Allura said, brandishing her violin like a pennant.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“I think I might just take a nap right here.” Rachel sprawled out on a chaise lounge with a sun hat tipped over her eyes. “Somebody wake me up when the margaritas arrive.”

“We might not be awake either,” Keith pointed out from his own chaise lounge. 

The bridal party had gotten their dance routine down well enough to improvise their way out of a misstep by the time Klaizap let them go, with a follow-up session scheduled for the next morning to hopefully eliminate the need for any improvising. Keith had decided to offer the breakdance solo to Lena, since he’d promised her she could dance at his wedding, and he didn’t want her to feel left out. Plus, having Hina give them an assist with the musical cue would give them a more dramatic entrance than toting in a bluetooth speaker could anyway, so he’d already been considering letting her in on the surprise. Hina reassured him over the phone that she could play that song for them, and that Lena was thrilled to be included and would have her solo ready in time.

After all that was worked out, they’d come straight back to the hotel and joined Lance’s family at the spa. Spa treatments were included free for the guests, which he wasn’t, but Lance whispered something to the spa manager Snick and then all of the sudden Keith was granted access to the same treatments all of the others were getting, no questions asked. Lance could have put it on Shiro’s tab, but if Keith knew Lance then it was more likely he’d tapped the remains of his own illicit proceeds. Which could still be construed as being on Shiro’s tab when getting down to brass tacks, except that it also represented the last of Lance’s money that he could spend without having to answer to anybody for it.

The treatment rooms were sequestered according to secondary gender, so Keith spent some quality time laying on flat surfaces while dressed only in a couple of towels in the company of Lance whom he was very used to, Kuro whom he was rapidly growing used to, and Lance’s two sisters-in-law who were pretty chill and easy to get used to. Not an alpha or beta in sight, until gradually everybody trickled out to lay in lethargic heaps by the pool. Keith had just had his scalp massaged, skin steamed, nails buffed, muscles kneaded, and face slathered in peptides. Never again would he refer to Lance’s self-care routines as loafing. This shit was surprisingly exhausting.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shay’s brother Rax was a music teacher at the public high school they had attended together with Allura and Hunk. School had just let out when she called him. Rax was not so much enthusiastic about coming to their aid as he was stoic, but he had no trouble rounding up a few of his colleagues and some students from the high school’s performing arts career academy, and requisitioning their activity bus for an after school field trip. Hunk was still very well-liked in the community where he grew up, a reliable and popular presence at the school’s annual career day. 

Te-Osh brought a digital keyboard into the live room so that Shiro could back up their impromptu chamber ensemble with the synthesized sound of a pipe organ. They were still a small enough group that they didn’t need a conductor, so Allura remained their concertmaster. She signaled to Te-Osh that she was ready to begin.

“Allegro, first take,” Te-Osh said, and they were off, swept up in the ecstasy of multiple sonic lines joining together to make a harmonious whole piece of music.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Thanks for helping me out today, Gorou.”

Jin had been bade by his wife to clear out all three freezers in the house in order to make way for cake tiers. So, with Gorou’s help, Jin had loaded up his truck full of coolers filled with freezer food, and carted them over to Hunk’s place, where the two of them had crammed as much of the food as they could possibly fit into Hunk’s freezer. Hunk shouldn’t have to go grocery shopping for a while after this, even if he took time off for a honeymoon.

There had still been food left over after stuffing Hunk’s freezer, so Jin and Gorou had taken it up to Temple City to give to Hina. They’d managed to fit everything else in her freezer except for a box of fish sticks, which Jin figured might be fine for supper as he put it back in a now-empty cooler. When they’d left, Alana and Krolia were still churning out cakes like a well-oiled machine while Leia made a vat of frosting. There was little chance of a home-cooked meal coming out of that kitchen before the wedding, so it would have to be either the fish sticks or takeout.

“No problem, Jin-oji-san.” 

Technically Jin wasn’t Gorou’s uncle, but semantics. Gorou was such a good-natured kid. Jin got a warm fuzzy whenever he heard the familiar term from him.

“So, where are we taking Hunk for his bachelor party? Do I need to change clothes?”

The warm fuzzy evaporated like water drops on a hot griddle. “We forgot about the bachelor party. I can’t believe it! Maybe we could fit that in tomorrow?” 

It would give him time to stall while he tried to coordinate with Shay. Where could they even take him? Jin didn’t know anything about strip clubs, and he doubted Shay did either.

Hina popped out from behind the freezer door where she’d been rearranging frozen food because she claimed to have a system for maximizing cold storage. “You better not get Hunk wasted on the night before his wedding, he’ll look like death warmed over in the pictures and then Mom will throw things.”

Jin knew she was one hundred percent right on all counts. When Hunk was under the weather, it showed on him strongly, and when Alana was under high stress she took no prisoners. Leia was a lot like Alana when riled, and she was currently in Jin’s house within easy reach of plenty of food items that could erupt into a juicy mess on impact with a human body. Jin hadn’t known Krolia for very long but he had the impression she was also made of the sort of tough stuff who could aim a tomato with deadly accuracy.

“We should take him out tonight for karaoke!” Gorou enthused.

“That’s a great idea,” Jin said in relief. Bless Gorou for his habit of word-vomiting suggestions. Admittedly, when it was bad it was very bad, but when it was good it was a lifesaver. Karaoke could be arranged on short notice and was unlikely to result in projectiles from any quarter. “Hina, what do you say, can you make it tonight?”

“I checked in with Lena before you guys got here, the kids should to be home from band practice any minute now.” Hina shook her head no. “Jai’s at a study group tonight.” Jai was one of Hina’s tenants in the triplex she owned and lived in, and also her preferred babysitter.

“Tell you what,” Jin said. “Why don’t you take Gorou out in your car and give your brother a good send off tonight? I’ll stay here and watch the kids. That way you can have fun without worrying about them, and I can know that Hunk’s in safe hands without having to know exactly what he’s getting up to.” If strip bars should somehow reenter the conversation sometime during the night, Jin could now honestly say that he had nothing to do with it.

Hina still looked doubtful. “They’ll be wanting dinner. What are you going to make?”

She was probably worried he’d feed his grandkids ice cream and cookies for dinner, and okay maybe he’d actually done that once or twice before, but this time she could rest easy. 

“I’m going to make fish sticks.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance held on tight to his mother as the bellhops helped load his family’s luggage into the limousine. It was the sort of sleek black stretch limo that Lance had first imagined Shiro would use when he’d accepted the offer which had proven so pivotal in his life. Of course, Shiro had gone on to turn many of his assumptions on their heads. Now here his family was leaving in just such a beast. Omnia had ordered it for the group flying to Miami, because she’d taken their rented Ford Explorer with her when she’d left a short while earlier with Daniel and Rachel to return to New York.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer Mamá?” Lance breathed in her scent as scented her shoulder. “I’m sure Shiro won’t mind.”

“I know he wouldn’t mijo.” Vibiana rubbed his back. “But you need to begin your married life together without your mamá looking over your shoulder.” She leaned back, holding his arms. “You will come see me in Miami soon, yes?”

“Of course I will Mamá!”

“¡Qué bueno!” 

She caressed his cheek as the rest of Lance’s family gathered around to get their hugs and exchange scents. Darrell stepped in to get a hug too, as he was leaving with them.

“Lance, we will see each other again soon in Miami, I promise. Tell Shiro to call me. He’ll know what it’s about.”

Lance was at least somewhat reassured. “Okay.” If Darrell said they’d be meeting up again soon, then he trusted Darrell believed that to be true. The thing was, Lance wasn’t entirely sure what Darrell’s barometer was for ‘soon.’

“Cheer up hermanito.” Marco put an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “You still have me to pester you for the next little while.”

Lance laughed on a sniffle. Somehow Marco had charmed his way into his dream job taking care of James Griffin’s horses. He’d even have his own apartment in the stables, which Lance was reasonably sure was not as austere as that sounded, given it was for polo ponies on an equestrian estate. Although Marco probably would have been just fine regardless. 

The fact of the matter was, though, that Marco was leaving too, and Lance hadn't even had a chance to tease him properly about his heated seats obsession. Their leave-taking felt like an aftershock capping off a week full of shocks to the system.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hina sat in the front seat of her little Kona and plugged her phone into the charger while waiting for Gorou to finish primping in Manny’s bathroom. Beta male vanity was something else, she was already witnessing it in her son and it honestly baffled her. Hina had just thrown on a fresh boho dress and called it done. But this gave her time to make an important phone call. She tapped the number in her contact list and put the phone to her ear.

Her contact picked up and answered briskly. _“King here.”_

“Hey, it’s Hina.” She shifted the rear-view mirror to keep an eye out for Gorou. “I need you to kidnap Hunk.”

Indignant squawking ensued on the other end of the line.

“It’s for his bachelor party, okay?” Hina popped her passenger door lock open when Gorou finally walked out of her front door. Then he stopped to check his hair in her front window. “He’s at work and you know how he gets chained to his desk. The only person who could probably talk him into leaving under his own power is Keith, but Keith can’t come with us.”

_“What do you expect me to do with no car?”_

“Don’t worry about the car, I’ll bring the car. You just get him to the employee entrance. Bring Rizavi too if she’s not working.” The party was guaranteed to live if Nadia Rizavi was with them. In the rear-view mirror’s frame, Gorou stopped fussing with his hair and stepped onto the concrete. “Gotta go, see you in a bit.”

Hina hung up as Gorou rounded the vehicle and got within overhearing distance. She didn’t want him anywhere near this plan until it was too late for him to embellish it, otherwise she might as well invite her kids' junior high marching band to help them kidnap Hunk. She knew she could trust Allura, to get it done right though. They hadn’t been the kind of close friends in high school where they’d write sappy notes in each other’s yearbooks, being two years apart, but they’d been good enough buds to pull off some epic pranks.

The best prank had been when they’d stolen the mascot costume from their high school's biggest football rival, then made it a MySpace account and posted pictures of each other wearing it during their Humanities class’s study abroad trip. They’d had to do community service to get the misdemeanor expunged from their records, and then they’d been benched for the first football game of the season the subsequent year. Hina still would do it all again if she had the chance.

It had been far too long since she’d really cut loose. Tonight was going to be so much fun.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Allura tapped end and growled.

“What’s wrong, Love?”

Allura turned to her mate with a sigh. They’d finished cutting the two tracks they wanted and now her group and her brother-in-law’s were in the studio parking lot discussing where they might all go for a celebratory burger and shake. Then Hina called. 

“Hunk’s bachelor party is tonight and his sister wants me to remove him from his workplace. Forcibly if necessary.”

Shay gasped in dismay. “Oh no, I can’t believe I forgot!”

Allura took her hands. “Dearest, it’s not your fault. This wedding is so rushed I doubt even Hunk remembered.” 

She noticed Shiro looking guilty over Shay’s shoulder, but she didn’t think he was strictly at fault either. Yes, his wedding had also been rushed and spectacularly ill-timed all things considered, but Hunk’s wedding was so big compared to its short planning period that it practically bent time around itself.

“Anyway, it needn’t be that dramatic. I’m sure if you ask him nicely to come along with us then he will do so with no need for theatrics.” Hina was not quite correct about there being only one person able to sweet-talk Hunk into setting aside work for leisure. Hunk had always reserved a soft spot in his heart for Shay, even after chivalrously withdrawing his suit.

“No,” Rax intruded on their conversation. “You will not go frolicking with these alphas. You will go out for burgers with us and then you will come home and visit Lola like you promised.”

Allura quashed the instinct to snarl in Rax’s face. A prude he may be, but he was also still her brother-in-law whom she did not want to be feuding with this close to Thanksgiving. Anyway, Shay was very good at sticking up for herself and did not always require her alpha to make a display.

“I’m the primary honor attendant,” Shay reminded her beta brother. “It’s my job to make sure Hunk’s wedding day is the best day of his life.”

“You can still do that without going to bars.” Rax, as was typical of him, did not back down. “Lola is expecting you to stay at least one night with us while you are here.”

Allura was positive that Shay’s sweet grandmother would not have excluded Allura from that invitation the way that Rax was trying to do. Get in trouble with the law one time for pulling a silly high school prank and some people just never let it go. Although Allura strongly suspected that Rax’s rancor had less to do with her (expunged!) arrest record and more to do with the fact that Allura had taken Shay away from the community where she’d been born and raised.

Allura could see, though, that Rax had already won this round by repeatedly bringing up Shay’s grandmother. They had indeed promised a visit, and an overnight stay where Shay and her grandmother could have the luxury of time alone together would not only be a kindness, it would probably get Rax off their backs for the rest of the week. Compromise was the true mark of a successful marriage.

As they pulled away from the parking lot in an SUV that felt emptier without her sunny omega in it, Shiro glanced over at Allura from the driver’s seat. “I’ll help you,” he said, “since this is kind of my fault.”

Allura smiled and shook her head. “This is most certainly not your fault. Even if we’d all remembered, this still might have happened. I’m going to take you up on that offer of aid, however.”

Considering it was Hunk, a little bit of extra muscle would not go amiss.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
James Griffin had shown up as afternoon waxed toward evening to take Marco away to his new life cavorting with horses in the California countryside. He hadn’t come alone. Pidge Holt and her brother had come with him, then stayed behind after James and Marco left.

“We’ll just get Shiro to drive us back to my car whenever he comes back from wherever,” had been Pidge’s nonchalant response to being left stranded at the hotel. 

Then she’d proceeded to flirt with Kuro to the point where Haruka had demanded that if she was going to insist on engaging in courting behavior it would be under her and Kai’s close supervision in the Penthouse Suite’s main parlor. Pidge had agreed so quickly that it had to have been part of her plan all along. Lance figured anyone who could outfox Haruka at her own game deserved to bask in the glory of love, but it did leave him, Keith and Pidge’s own brother as wheels five through seven in that situation.

So that was how they happened to be strolling together through the manicured greenery on the periphery of the hotel property when they happened upon the sight of Shiro, Allura and Nadia Rizavi wrestling Hunk through the employee entrance with a coat over his head.

“Allura? I can smell it’s you! And Shiro and Nadia! What the hell is going on?”

“What the hell is going on?” Keith asked loudly.

“Keith?” Hunk’s voice was muffled under the coat.

“Keith!” Shiro let go of the struggling Hunk, leaving Allura and Nadia to continue wrangling him down the sidewalk. Lance was picking up excitement and some stress from him, but no truly negative emotions. “Lance!” Shiro rushed over and pressed an unfamiliar set of keys into his hands. “I’ve got to go with them, it’s Hunk’s bachelor party, but here are the keys to the Sequoia, I’ll explain everything later.” He gave him a smooch and then rushed back over to where Allura and Nadia were trying to stuff Hunk into the cargo area of a subcompact SUV. Two people who resembled Hunk were hanging out of the vehicle’s front windows.

“Hina?” Keith called out.

“Don’t worry Keith,” said the woman leaning out of the driver’s side window. “We’re just taking him out for karaoke, we’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“So you’re the cutie who claimed Hunk’s patootie! Are either of your friends single?”

“Gorou get back in the car!”

Once the cargo hatch was closed on a yelling Hunk, the other three alphas packed themselves into the backseat like clowns in a circus hooptie, and off they rode into the golden hour. As Keith stared after the retreating SUV with an incredulous look on his face, Lance stared down at the key fob in his hand. He pressed the unlock button, heard the chirp of the lock disengaging and looked up at the flash of lights. The SUV, much bigger than Hina’s, was parked just a short way up the curb. Why in the hell didn’t they just take that one?

“What the hell happened to the Camaro?” Lance wondered aloud, as he turned and got the full effect of Keith’s pout. “Hey man, don’t worry, we’re gonna have a bachelor party that’ll make those alphas wish they’d gone with us instead.”

Lance had officially fallen down on the job of honor attendant, but he was going to make it up to Keith. Whatever it took.

“How are we gonna do that, though?” Keith waved at Lance’s neck and again at Matt’s. “We can’t get into any clubs without your alphas because of those.”

He was right. Most nightclubs only let unclaimed omegas go in alone as a general rule, one of the few public spaces where that was the case. Claimed omegas could only get in if their alphas were with them. The type of places that ignored those social expectations were also the type of places where Lance and Keith used to practice the oldest profession, so no go on that. Keith could probably still get into any legitimate nightclub he wanted to, but he’d be partying all by himself and on this night of all nights when it seemed as if everyone had just left them standing at the curb, that was not going to fly.

They needed to have themselves a private party. The challenge was finding a suitable location to let it all hang out. If they went back to the penthouse, Haruka would be all too thrilled to help them organize a nice bridal shower that would bore Keith to snoozing. If they took the party to Keith’s place, they might get paid a nice visit from the cops for disturbing the peace of a quiet residential neighborhood.

Lancey Lance to the rescue. “I know what we’re gonna do.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When you say it like that I get worried.”

Lance took his billfold out of his pocket and pulled a receipt out with a flourish. “Lookie what I have!”

Keith laughed. “You seriously kept that?”

“Of course I kept it! We’re paid up through tomorrow at midnight, in case you forgot.”

Keith shook his head. “You know Morvok probably rented out our room anyway, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Lance smirked. “But he can’t keep us out of the courtyard.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Ryan’s TDY had ended and the leave he’d planned to surprise Matt with was in force, but without Matt by his side, his original plan of touring Europe by train had lost its sparkle. Ryan just wanted to be reunited with his mate as soon as possible, so he boarded the first Space-A flight he could get on to make his way home.

As he let his luggage fall to the carpeted floor, Ryan stretched out all of his senses. Their rented two-storey house was far too still for anyone to be in residence. The air was stale, Matt’s scent barely detectable. He hadn’t passed through these rooms in days. Only the faintest ripple of emotion came through the bond, so wherever he was, it wasn’t all that close by.

Maybe he was still at his sister’s apartment. Ryan took out his phone and hit speed-dial, and it went straight to voice mail. He left her a message and tried Matt’s phone, and the same thing happened. What on Earth could they be doing?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ BOMP BOMP BOMP ♪ Another one bites the dust ♪ BOMP BOMP BOMP ♬_

The party-bound omegas had quickly discovered the reason why the alphas left the bigger SUV parked at the curb: on account of the giant harp in the back. No problemo. They’d simply called the bellhops over, and one generous tip later the harp and a violin that was discovered beside it were on their way up to the penthouse and the three omegas in the SUV were on their way to the liquor store.

“Don’t forget drunchies,” Lance had to shout to be heard above the music as he steered the massive SUV into the parking lot.

“We won’t,” Keith and Matt shouted back in unison.

Lance was the designated driver, so he couldn’t get crunk with them. But he could and would get blitzed on snack foods between rounds of dancing his ass off.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Two bellhops rolled a concert harp on a dolly into the parlor. The blonde front desk clerk strolled in after them, carrying a violin case.

Haruka had gotten up to let them in, then stood aside when she saw that the delivery was much larger than suite’s current occupants had been expecting. “These are not the sandwiches that we ordered.”

“No ma’am,” the desk clerk said serenely. “These are the musical instruments that Ser McClain de Shirogane asked us to bring here for safekeeping.”

“Oishii!” Kuro stepped around Haruka to run a hand over the neck of the harp.

“Why is Lance not here with you?” was Haruka’s next question.

“They said Mister Shirogane had given them the use of the SUV and then they left in it.” The desk clerk remained completely unruffled by the questioning.

“They?” Pidge left off her fascinated observation of Kuro’s harp appreciation to enter the conversation. “Did my brother leave too?”

“Yes, and Keith as well.”

“I can’t believe he ditched me.” Pidge frowned.

Kuro turned away from his examination of the harp’s shoulder to put an arm around Pidge’s. “I am sorry that your oni-san left you alone.”

Pidge smiled up at him. “It’s okay, ‘cause I’m not alone now.”

In her belt holster, her cell phone suddenly flashed a voice mail alert. Pidge tugged it free, embarrassed at herself for forgetting to turn off alerts after taking the trouble to send all her calls to voice mail. Ryan called her? She’d probably better see what he wanted.

“Excuse me just a sec,” she said sheepishly as she took the phone into the adjacent living room, dialing as she walked.

Ryan picked up on the first ring. _“Pidge! I’m glad you called me back, is Matt with you? I just got home.”_

Oh brother.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ Tonight I’m not taking no calls ‘cause I’ll be dancing ♬_

The rolling jukebox carrying three omegas sped north on Santa Monica Boulevard, turning the heads of other drivers as they went and attracting some of them to snap pics that would wind up on social media before the night was over.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Cheer up, Hunkalunk.” Hina seemed awfully thrilled with herself. “Tonight is all about having fun!”

“You need to re-examine your idea of fun,” Hunk grumped from the back of the vehicle.

He’d been at work just minding his own business when Nadia and Allura had come up to him, and he’d assumed they had work or wedding stuff to talk to him about, but instead, _“What’s that on the floor?”_ and his natural inclination had been to lean over, but that was a mistake because they’d thrown a coat over his head, and then to top off the surprise abduction sundae Shiro had tackled him out of nowhere.

“Sorry about the whole grappling with you thing.” Shiro did sound genuinely regretful. “I just found out today that Keith is my third cousin and I couldn’t let anything ruin his wedding.”

What kind of screwball logic had made him decide that going along with Hina’s cockamamie plan was necessary to save his and Keith’s wedding? Hunk almost asked, then thought better of it, for surely that way madness lies. Anyway, he was already in the vehicle on the way to somewhere. “Where are you guys taking me?”

“To a dive bar near the Strip!” Hina sounded more excited than Hunk thought this announcement warranted. “Blaytz, you remember Blaytz? Well he’s a part-owner there and he says it’s karaoke night and the place will be jumping.”

“Are you talking about Blazin’ Blaytz?” The Captain of the swim team in high school whom Hina had dated for about a half a minute, and who once threw a house party so legendary that people still celebrated its anniversary.

“The very one, so you just sit back and relax, we’re going to make sure you have fun tonight!”

The other passengers hooted enthusiastically, so Hunk decided to just relax and go with it. If nothing else, this might be a good opportunity to practice that Luther Vandross cover he wanted to sing at the wedding reception. Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The SUV rolled to a stop at the curb alongside a dilapidated fence surrounding an adobe brick edifice with a neon sign that kept blinking ‘hot’ over and over because the ‘el’ was already burned out.

“Where are we?” Matt asked, eyes tracking up with an expression of quiet trepidation.

“Home sweet former home,” Keith replied, casting flat eyes on the place. Then he grinned. “Let’s party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if you're following the Adam and Curtis parts, they still have some story left, but they won't reappear until after the bachelor parties, so look for them in chapter 16.


	15. Funkytown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale of two bachelor parties, in which some people are unexpectedly funky. Also, a tale of two young marriages. In which some people are unexpectedly funky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everybody for the reads, kudos and comments! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, luminiferousaether, Yo_buddy and Inoshi!
> 
> Fair warning: there is a bit of marital arguing in this chapter. Not all of it from the usual suspects.

  
Morvok had proven to be as grasping as predicted. Of course he’d already rented their room out. Shock. He’d scowled at the receipt Lance slammed on the desk to prove their right to hang out in the courtyard, then demanded an extra person surcharge for Matt. 

Luckily Morvok was still as cheap a bribe as ever. Twenty bucks later saw them turning on the SUV’s active alarm system and carting all their goodies into the overgrown courtyard.

“It’s kind of dark in here,” Matt said worriedly. Night was upon them, and the light of the moon did little to combat the shade created by the abundant vegetation in the courtyard.

“Got that covered,” Lance said, setting out the folding outdoor furniture they’d picked up on the way over. He popped out the pop-up table and set down the battery-operated nightlight, flicking it on. Colorful stars cast soft light on blackberry bushes, blackout curtains in windows, and serrated leaves stretching towards the open sky. 

“Still kinda dark in here.”

“Relax.” Keith walked a perimeter around the courtyard, hanging dusk-to-dawn solar lanterns on branches as he went. 

They wouldn’t have much of a charge right out of the box, and probably wouldn’t get much of a recharge where Keith was putting them, but they only needed to last a few more hours for their purposes. Then they could belong to whoever managed to snatch them before Morvok did. As the lights winked on, the courtyard was instantly transformed into a gnarly wonderland that looked slightly less dangerous than when they’d walked in.

“Will we be waking up your old neighbors?” Matt looked less tense the longer they occupied the courtyard without interference. Then his big golden eyes widened owlishly in fresh alarm. “Will we be waking up somebody’s children?”

“Chill,” Keith said as he helped himself to a beer from the cooler they’d trundled in. “There’s no kids here. Morvok couldn’t get subsidized for family housing if he went in front of the FHA with a whole troop of orphans literally singing his praises.” Which he probably wouldn’t bother with in the first place because that would open him up to whole host of regulations he’d have to spend money to meet. “The only people who live here are single omegas, and most of them should be getting up for work soon.” 

That was the reason why they’d found Morvok at his desk instead of having to roust him out of his bed in the manager’s suite. He tended to keep the same hours as his tenants.

“Oh.” Matt relaxed again. “Think any of ‘em will want to hang out with us?”

Keith traded knowing looks with Lance. “I think that’s a safe bet.” They’d intentionally over-shopped in the expectation that anyone who chanced upon them would want to tie one on before striking out for the boulevard.

“Good,” Matt breathed. “No offense, but it’s a little spooky in here with just us three.”

As if called forth by the spirit of Halloween itself, a tall, slender figure in a white robe with long grey hair worn astraggle about its shoulders stepped out of the shadows. Pastel stars illuminated a pallid face.

“Yeren,” they said. “We meet again.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Blaytz was there to greet them when they arrived at the whimsically-named Fripping Bulgogian, which he ran as a joint venture with some of his relatives from the Mu family. He’d let his razor cut hairstyle soften to a layered look and added a chin strap to his square jaw, but otherwise he was still the charming party animal who’d been elected to the Homecoming Court every single year he’d been in high school, despite the fact he’d always gone out for water polo instead of football for his fall sport.

He’d certainly picked a good career path to showcase his personality. The bar was, as Hina had promised, jumping. Red gauze lanterns competed for ceiling space with Dia de los Muertos luminarias which had been added in honor of the season. Under their low light, the laughing patrons moved like seiche waves as Blaytz led the bachelor party across the floor to a large round booth table he’d reserved just for them. Waiting there already were Coran, Akane and Uncle Jiro.

“Hunk!” Coran jumped up from the booth to give Hunk a bear hug. “It seems like just yesterday that we were toasting Shiro’s marriage and now it’s your turn!”

“That’s because it was just yesterday,” Hunk reminded him as he patted his back.

“How time flies!” Coran seemed sentimental to a point that was unusual even for him since meeting Lady Dayak.

“I’m leaving you in Grae’s capable hands,” Blaytz said as the long-haired bar-back stepped forward with a pad and pencil at the ready. “But I’ll still be around if you need anything.” He aimed a wink that encompassed the entire table before gallivanting off to check on other customers.

“What can I getcha?”

“I’m the DD,” Hina said, “so you can just bring me a lemonade, but for the rest of these guys first round’s on me.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Upon reflection, Matt didn’t know why he’d expected the omega hostel to be like his college dorm. Maybe it was a consequence of too much exposure to public policy PR, or not enough exposure to omegas from the other side of the tracks. He’d done his high school community service credit at Golden Gate National Recreation Area, but some of his classmates had done their service making care packages to take to omega hostels, and they’d come back with stories that Matt wished he’d paid closer attention to, because this place was nothing like his college dorm.

Keith had not been exaggerating that most of the residents would be getting up for work with sundown. Into the courtyard they flowed as word seemed to be spreading of free beer and snacks. Off they went in scantily clad gaggles, beers upraised in cheeky thanks. There were a few cocktail waitrons in satin and spike heels, and a number more of novelty restaurant waitrons in skintight jeans and tied-off logo t-shirts, but the vast majority of the omegas enjoying their first beer of the day were dressed in what might kindly be called streetwalker chic.

Except for one. The white-robed omega who introduced themselves as Xi seemed to be an anomaly, visibly older than most of the others living there and not dressed for a night of grab-ass customer service. Not even just passing through the courtyard, in fact, but involved in a drawn-out quibble with Lance over control of the evening’s music.

“I am the DJ,” Xi said implacably. “This is how it is going to be.”

“We brought a bluetooth stereo speaker that can stream music from our phones,” Lance insisted. “We have lots of great tunes already with us, we can just set it on random play and not have to worry about it for the rest of the night!”

“How nice for you.” Xi was unimpressed. “I am still the DJ.”

“Just let them be the DJ, Lance,” Keith said. “It’ll be fine. We came here to party, not argue.”

Lance pulled a face. “Fine.”

“It will be fine, Yeren,” Xi said. “I will return with my equipment and then you will see how fine.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
♪ “As I look into your eyes...” ♪

The party in the velvet-upholstered round booth clutched their whiskey sours and soft drinks in pure amazement as the last ethereal note was swallowed up by the approbation of the crowd. Coran had just brought the house down with his soaring interpretation of “The Power of Love.”

“So, who’s feeling bold enough to follow that act?” Hunk finally found his voice to ask.

Hina turned to him with her hands out. “Rock Paper Scissors?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Xi made several trips back and forth to their apartment until they’d finally brought down a card table, a suitcase turntable of indeterminate age, a boombox that had to be thirty years old if it was a day, a box of vinyl and cassettes nearly as big as they were, and several extension cords coiled over their shoulder. On their head they wore supra-aural headphones with a deely-bopper attached to the headband. Once they got their equipment set up, they put a record on the turntable and said, “This one goes out to all the ladies in the house” as they gradually adjusted the volume on the boombox. Thumping bass filled the courtyard.

_♬ Toot toot... heeey... beep beep ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
It turned out they didn’t need to play Rock Paper Scissors. After Coran graciously ceded the stage following his encore, another bar patron did a sweaty rendition of “Baby Got Back” in which he somehow managed to mangle the lyrics on the Teleprompter. 

♪ “When a girl walks in with a itty bitty grin and a round thing on her face” ♪

Like a clown nose?

♪ “I get sprung” ♪

Then the guy did some kind of interpretive dance that was maybe supposed to demonstrate his idea of getting sprung, but it looked more like somebody trying to pee off the deck of a cruise ship. Akane unilaterally decided to rescue them all from the threat of that guy taking another turn and stormed the stage with a look on her face that made the previous singer stage dive out of her path. She dedicated her song to romance, then proceeded to sing a song about a hookup.

♪ “You need a love, you need a love, that’s always gonna la-a-ast!” ♪

Jiro was so overcome that he stood up on the booth’s bench. “I gotchu baby!”

♪ “Babe you got to sit down!” ♪

Akane did have a nice singing voice, gliding over the notes with a slightly husky register. She shouldn’t have any trouble singing “Kampai” at their wedding if that was still on her agenda and not going to get them sued. Hunk wondered if Keith also had a singing voice with that husky quality to it.

He’d bet that he did and wondered if he'd ever get to hear it.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ You can ring my be-e-ell, ring my bell ♬_

Between the music and the promise of free booze, some of the hostel’s denizens who’d been having themselves a personal day came out of their rooms, and others who’d already gone out to the boulevard called it a night and came back early. The courtyard was soon filled with omegas of all shapes, sizes and primary genders, dancing like it was last call. Somebody had dragged a dinette chair out of their room so that Keith could stand on it and get his twerk on with a beer in one hand, because he’d already tried to do it on a camp chair and now they were down one camp chair. The acoustics in the courtyard amplified the bass, so he had to raise his whiskey voice to be heard above the music.

♪ “Well come on and let yourself be free...” ♪

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Jiro was the next one on the mic as Akane, who was the group’s other DD, bought herself a Coke and the rest of them a round of Bloody Marys. One knee jumping, one hand snapping, Jiro was not the greatest dancer that they’d ever seen, but he did possess a strong singing voice.

♪ “If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!” ♪

Akane led the rest of the group doing the wave in support of his efforts.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ Baby! My heart is full of love and– ♬_

**♪ “Desire for you!” ♪**

The courtyard full of dancing omegas shouted every other verse of the song loud enough to make the cannabis tremble in their pots.

_♬ You started this fire down– ♬_

**♪ “In my soul!” ♪**

Only, some of them didn’t yell ‘soul.’

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Two cocktails was enough liquid courage for Gorou to take his turn on the little stage. Alas, whatever gene had given his fellow beta cousin such a resonant voice had not blessed Gorou. But what he lacked in tone he made up for in sheer gusto, and the party in the booth clapped along with the beat to encourage him.

♪ “I’ll be your freak-a-zoid – ” ♪

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ – C’mon and wind me up! ♬_

The scent of keyed up omegas in the courtyard was beginning to grow more overpowering than the pot plants. Keith and Lance made a hot omega sandwich with a Matt filling and were teaching him how to freak, with rowdy incitement from the crowd. He was proving to be a quick study.

**♪ “Z-O-I-D-S!” ♪**

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Nadia Rizavi had the entire bar singing the chorus along with her, and even some bigwigs leaning out of the joint’s private room to join in.

**♪ “I love rock and roll!” ♪**

♪ “So put another dime in the jukebox baby!” ♪

Her admirers started sending over rounds of drinks to the bachelor party table, along with phone numbers hastily written on cocktail napkins.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ You told me to go up the block and get you a strawberry pop ♬_

The low frequency noise and ambrosial aroma drifting out of the omega hostel was beginning to attract some attention on the street.

“Did they open a new club in there?”

“No man, it’s the omegas, they’re throwing a rager.”

“No way, really?”

“Should they even be partying all by themselves like that?”

“Leave ‘em alone, man. Everybody’s got a right to party.”

_♬ went to the phone and called your mother and told me you had burned rubber on me ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Someone must know where he is.”

Ryan had his cell phone on speaker as he drove his truck north on I-10 at the maximum allowable speed limit. The longer he spent not knowing for sure what had become of his mate, the more concerned he became. He’d spoken to his sister-in-law, his father-in-law, the front desk clerk at the hotel where Matt had last been seen, and left messages on both Matt’s and Colleen’s cell phones. Now he was talking to Pidge again.

_“Hang on Ryan, we just found out where Shiro went.”_ Ryan heard tapping in the background, and people speaking Japanese. _“You find Shiro, he should be able to lead you to wherever his mate went with Matt. Their bond is still fresh.”_

Ryan cautiously agreed with Pidge’s logic about Shirogane being able to track down his mate, and hopefully Matt by proximity. Most of the empathic qualities of bonds gradually deepened over time, but in most bonded pairs the tracking quality started off powerfully strong and then rapidly faded, possibly because, unlike other qualities, the tracking’s evolutionary purpose was most important when it was fresh. Right now it would be at its peak, which in most couples was strong enough to track their mate as inexorably as a Komodo dragon following a deer. They’d have to be continents apart from each other not to be found so soon after a claiming, assuming that had taken place. Some couples elected to wait until after the birth of their first child before taking that step.

Some couples never took that step at all, or were forced to delay all or part of it.

Pidge messaged over an address which Ryan plugged into his GPS.

“I’m on my way.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Several rounds into the evening the group had finally ordered a platter of fried dumplings to cut the alcohol, but Hina still had to help Allura up on the stage for her turn, because she kept giggling and trying to stumble back to the booth for her Mai Tai. But they got there.

♪ “Say it ain’t so, I will not go, turn the lights off, carry me home.” ♪

The crowd raucously joined them on the na-na-nas as Hina tried to keep Allura from falling off the stage while doing the pogo.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
They ran out of booze, but another resident came to save the day. Xi was not the only omega of a certain age in the hostel. Ryner, who had grown such magnificent blackberry bushes, had also grown the colossal pot plants, and the widow felt it fitting that Keith’s impending nuptials be celebrated with her largesse. She selected flowers, buds and some leaves for longer burning, while another neighbor brought out a chiminea. Soon they had a smoky fire blazing away.

_♬ Give me that stuff. That sweet funky stuff. ♬_

“This is the greatest day in the world!” Keith hollered at the sky.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hunk and Shiro swayed on stage with their arms around each other’s shoulders, harmonizing their tipsy little hearts out.

♪ “I don’t care who you are!” ♪

♪ “Who you are!” ♪

♪ “Where you’re from!” ♪

♪ “Where you’re from!” ♪

♪ “What you did as long as you love me!” ♪

♪ “As long as you love me!” ♪

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Finding Shirogane at the bar was as easy as walking in the door, because there he was up on stage crooning a Backstreet Boys song alongside a big fellow who would have been cast as The Sensitive One if they’d been in a real boy band.

_“I’m gonna need video documentation of this.”_ Pidge’s voice was delivered into Ryan’s bluetooth earbud.

“No,” Ryan said, and he stepped forth to intercept Shirogane as he wove off the stage.

To say Shirogane looked surprised to see him would not have been quite accurate. Confuddled might have been a better description of the look on his face, if such a word were in Merriam-Webster.

“Kinkade?” He poked at Ryan’s shoulder as if checking to make sure he wasn’t a product of delirium tremens. “How’d you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Hey man.” The big guy came up on Ryan’s other side, clapping him on the shoulder with a giddy smile on his face. “I’m getting married!”

“Congratulations.” He could be standing here all night answering the questions of amiable drunks if he didn’t take control of this conversation at once. “We need to find your mates.”

Two rosy-cheeked faces instantly turned mulish. “Why?”

“Because wherever they have gone, they have taken my mate with them.”

“Relax pal.” The big one clapped his shoulder again and nearly knocked him over. He was stronger than he apparently thought he was. “They’re all safe and warm back at the hotel.”

“No, they are not,” Ryan replied, stepping to the right to get his shoulder out of reach of that giant friendly hand.

Meanwhile, Shirogane looked off into the middle distance with a slack-jawed expression that Ryan hoped meant he was drunkenly trying to find his mate through the bond, and not just ready to pass out.

“He’s not at the hotel where we left him Hunk, he’s way too close by for that.” Shirogane’s face began to take on the ashen cast of a person whose kidneys suddenly started trying to process alcohol at light speed so that the brain could recover its faculties for fight or flight. “Hunk!” He slapped at the big guy’s hands in an apparent attempt to grasp them.

“What?” Hunk looked confuzzled.

If confuzzled was also not a word in the dictionary, then Ryan thought that it should be. 

“Hunk!” Shirogane said it louder.

“What?!”

“I think they’re at the omega hostel!”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
They left behind the rest of their party to pile aboard Kinkade’s extended cab truck and haul ass over to the omega hostel. Shiro hoped his sozzled instincts were just running haywire due to stress-induced paranoia and that Lance was still safe at the hotel. He hoped this all the way to the hostel, where he was proven unfortunately correct by the sight of the Sequoia neatly parallel parked on a side street. Kinkade double parked to block them in and then they all ran around the side of the building to get past the fence, only to find the entrance blocked by a string of street people and a few tourists holding homemade signs.

“Let omeggins party,” Hunk read out loud.

“Everybody’s got the right to party!” said one of the sign wavers, to a chorus of agreement from the other– could these really be considered protestors? They seemed more like opportunists, as the scent rising out of the hidden courtyard was an intoxicating brew of pot and ecstatic omega, and these people were strategically positioned to get a primo blast of it.

“We just want to get our mates out of there,” Shiro implored them. This was his token attempt to get them to see reason, because he was not above busting some heads in a hot minute if they didn’t let him through.

“Come back later when they’re done partying!”

“Yeah!”

The hollering was interrupted by the front door opening and a cranky voice shouting, “Stop blocking the entrance! You get me fined, I’ll make sure you get hauled off for disturbing the peace!”

Grumbling, the protestors carried their misspelled signs slightly farther down the street, revealing Morvok standing there like the proverbial troll at the drawbridge, only much shorter. “You got bread?” he asked as the three alphas rushed toward him.

“I’ve got a mind to call the National Guard on you.” From the glint in his eye, Kinkade’s patience was nearly at an end, and frankly he wasn’t the only one.

Morvok caught the way the wind was blowing too and ducked out of their way. “All right, geez, get ‘em out of here, they’ve kept their peers off the street half the night, and if they’re off the street they’re not making me any rent money.”

As they passed Morvok in the entryway, the fuzzy bass that had been thudding out of the building during the entire confrontation became more distinct, and now they could hear lyrics. And chanting.

_♬ My music! Hits me! So hard! Makes me say! Oh my Lord! ♬_

**“Go Red! Go Red! Go Red! Go Red!”**

_♬ It feels good! When you know you’re down! A super dope homeboy from the Oaktown! ♬_

**“Go Red! Go Red! Go Red! Go Red!”**

The group of three alphas followed the scents and the sounds into the courtyard proper, where they found a large group of half-dressed omegas cheering on two omegas of the ginger persuasion who were dancing precariously on the seat of a dining chair. Now, Shiro had known that Matt could dance, but he’d never known that Matt could dance like that. Judging by the thunderstruck look on his face as he took in the sight of his mate entangled with a flame-haired female omega in yellow spandex, neither had Kinkade.

Matt spotted them standing there and smiled as if he’d just been discovered puttering in the garden instead of grinding with a sex worker whose bounteous breasts threatened to bounce free of her low-cut top.

“Hey babe,” Matt greeted Kinkade cordially, “wanna come up here and get your freak on with us?”

“I would much rather get my freak home,” Kinkade replied, and then he grabbed Matt around the waist and bodily lifted him off the chair, carrying him towards the exit.

“Aw man.” Matt waved at the redhead now wiggling her hips alone on the chair. “Bye Malocoti!”

“Bye Matt!” Malocoti waved back, the vigorous movement making her snowy white cleavage roll like an avalanche. “It was fun dancing with you, come party with us again some time!”

_♬ making 'em sweat that's what I'm giving them now ♬_

Across the courtyard, Keith was also dancing on a chair, but by himself. Where was Lance? Keith was all smiles as Hunk walked over with his arms out.

“I’m baked!” he declared happily as Hunk caught him up in a princess carry.

“I can see that,” Hunk replied, and he sounded far too amused about the situation to Shiro’s way of thinking. Maybe he was still drunk. 

“Thanks Xi!” Keith waved over Hunk’s broad shoulder as he was carried toward the exit. “Thanks Ryner! Thanks everybody!”

Everybody waved back with congratulations. Everybody, it seemed, but Lance. Where in the hell could he be? Shiro turned in a circle but all he saw and smelled were omegas who were not his. “Lance!”

Then gentle hands touched his back and Shiro knew who it was before he even turned around. Lance hadn’t a chance to speak before Shiro clutched him tight, the stress hormones combining with the alcohol still in his system to decimate his ability to resist acting on impulse. He crushed him close, breath coming in gasps of relief as righteous anger shortly followed.

“You scared the life out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The three couples congregated on the sidewalk and quickly decided that Matt’s mate, who had been tersely introduced to them as Ryan Kinkade, should follow Lance and Shiro back to the hotel to pick up Pidge. Then Kinkade could drive Pidge to where her vehicle was parked, and she could take Keith and Hunk home since their place was on her route back to her apartment. As Hunk handed Keith up into the back of the truck’s extended cab, Lance and Shiro began to argue about who got driving privileges in the SUV.

“You’re drunk,” Lance pointed out. “I haven’t had a drink all night.”

“No, you’ve just been dancing in a hot-boxed courtyard for who knows how long.”

“It was secondhand smoke, that’s hardly enough to get high on!”

“The size of your pupils says otherwise!”

“It’s too dark out here for you to see my pupils!”

In the end, Lance proved that he was indeed less impaired, as he was successfully able to wrestle the keys away from Shiro and lock himself inside the SUV.

“Lance, let me in, right now!” Shiro barked as Kinkade coasted the truck forward so that the SUV could get out of its parking space.

Kinkade rolled down his window and leaned out of it. “You should allow your alpha to get in the vehicle.” He had to project his voice, because Lance had all of his windows rolled up. “We do not have enough room for him in the truck.”

Lance glared out the front windshield and pointed at the bed of Kinkade’s truck while maintaining eye contact with him.

“That is illegal in the current set of circumstances,” Kinkade said, sounding stressed.

“How were you planning on fitting my sister inside the truck?” Matt asked. “Because if somebody has to get out, I vote me. I’ll just get a room at the hotel.”

Kinkade turned a bedeviled look upon his mate in the front passenger’s seat. “Your sister is a tiny thing. If you and Hunk switch places she will fit.”

Matt turned his head to stare out the other window. “That’s fine too, and I’m going to tell her you said that.”

In the world outside of the truck, Lance had relented. Sort of. He’d opened the SUV’s hatch and Shiro jumped right in, probably afraid he’d change his mind and close it again. As Lance skillfully maneuvered the big vehicle out of its parking spot and around the truck, Keith could see Shiro clambering over the seats to get closer to Lance so that they could continue bickering.

Kinkade pulled up behind them and they were on their way, with the couple in the lead vehicle still visibly locked in a heated argument, while the couple in the front seats of the rear vehicle gave off enough frost to compete with the truck’s air conditioning.

Keith lifted his head off Hunk’s shoulder to meet his eyes, glimmering like fine bourbon in the low light of the truck’s cabin. “Are you mad at me too?” he asked softly.

“No,” Hunk said, squeezing the arm he had around Keith’s shoulders. “I’ll admit, I was scared at first when we didn’t know for sure where you’d gone, but when I saw you safe and sound and having a blast with all your old friends around you, I got over it pretty fast.” He rubbed Keith’s arm. “I’ll always come running if I think you need me, but I’m well aware that your danger sense is a lot more fine-tuned than mine is.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Keith relaxed back into Hunk’s warm arms. “We just wanted to have fun.”

“I know you did babe.”

As Hunk kissed the crown of his head, Keith reflected on the night’s events and where they’d led. Lance may have hit the powerful rich guy jackpot and Matt might be married to a living Adonis, but Keith felt like the luckiest one out of all three of them.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“–still can’t believe you took such a foolish risk!” Shiro scolded again, and as he watched Lance grimace in profile, he knew that he still wasn’t getting through. There was an undercurrent of frustration flowing between the two of them like groundwater feeding a hot spring, until Shiro was no longer entirely sure which one of them was more upset.

He understood that Lance had wanted to give Keith a night to remember before his wedding, and that it was a rush job by necessity. He agreed that there were just not that many places a group composed exclusively of omegas could have safely gone for such a party. He’d heard the excuse as to why they couldn’t just use the penthouse, and while a rational side of his mind knew very well that Haruka would have taken the wild out of the proceedings with the best of intentions, a much less rational and possibly still drunk side of him was perfectly okay with that. Why couldn’t they have just sipped tea and ordered china patterns off the internet?

“How could you pull a stunt like that with Keith?” Surely that would break through. Lance might recklessly disregard his own safety, but he would not intentionally disregard that of his friends.

Lance’s jaw stiffened as his hands tightened on the wheel. Shiro felt he might have finally found the right tack.

“He may be the closest maternal relative I have left and he could have wound up in serious trouble.” Lance could have wound up in serious trouble. Shiro’s blood boiled just thinking about it.

At that, Lance actually laughed. “Keith lived there a lot longer than I did, he knows every hiding place there is to find in that neighborhood. The only way he might have gotten in trouble would’ve been if he left the hostel by himself, and that wasn’t gonna happen.”

Goddamn it. There had to be some way to make Lance take this seriously for longer than a few seconds. 

“And what about Matt?” Shiro spat it out hoping to get a reaction, and boy, he got one. Lance tried to control it, but Shiro felt that lurch of dismay down in his marrow. “He’s not a street waif, he doesn’t know anything about how to handle himself around people who think life is cheap and sex is cheaper. What were you thinking by taking him to such a seedy place?”

Lance heaved in a breath. “I was thinking that Matt’s a grown ass adult and capable of making his own decisions.”

“Except he didn’t really have all the information, did he?” Shiro’s superego started waving a red flag, but Shiro’s id drove right over it. “I bet he thought he was going to some place where omegas have pillow fights all night long.”

Lance’s skin washed out to the color of unbleached silk in the backwash of the street lights outside the moving vehicle. “As it so happens, he handled himself just fine.”

“He shouldn’t have had to handle himself at all!” Shiro’s fears for Lance reached a fever pitch. “He shouldn’t have been there! _You_ shouldn’t have been there!”

Lance’s lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry my real origin story doesn’t match the hothouse flower fantasy that people have been spinning about us.”

“What?” Shiro could give a rat’s ass about the spin except where it could protect Lance from people with bad intentions. “Lance, that’s not what I meant.”

But in the growing beat of _doubt doubt doubt_ pulsing across the bond, Shiro realized that he might have gone just a little bit too far.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The truck followed the SUV to the hotel’s main entrance, where Pidge stood waiting under an awning next to the valet driver. The SUV screeched to a halt. Lance leaped out of the driver’s seat, threw the keys at the valet and ran inside. Matt barely waited until the truck rolled to a complete stop before getting out to greet his sister, so Keith jumped out after him and ran over to confront Shiro before he could disappear inside the hotel.

“What the hell was that about?” Keith demanded.

Shiro looked absolutely crestfallen. “I’ll fix it,” he said. “I promise.”

“You’d better!”

Keith felt big warm hands on his shoulders as a coconut fresh scent wrapped comfortingly around him. “Everybody makes mistakes,” Hunk said, his voice a reassuring rumble at Keith’s back, “and everybody needs compassion, too.”

Shiro met Hunk’s eyes over Keith’s shoulder, and whatever he saw there had him straightening his posture with firm resolve. “I’ll fix this,” he said again, sounding a lot more sure of himself, before nodding to both of them and hurrying into the hotel.

Matt and Pidge were already in the back of the extended cab when Keith and Hunk returned to the truck.

“Ryan called you a tiny little thing,” Matt was telling his sister as Keith joined them in the backseat.

“I didn’t say little,” Ryan interjected.

“I heard what he really said, Twinkletoes,” Pidge groused.

“How could you have heard that?” Matt leaned forward in his seat, eyes widening as he inspected his husband’s profile by squeezing his torso between the front seats. “What the fuck?” He reached for Kinkade’s ear as Kinkade tried, too late, to jerk out of his reach.

“Matt you know I have to fold cartilage out of the way to remove it, you can’t just–!”

His resulting screech was loud enough to rival the Wilhelm scream.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance saw Shiro running for the elevator and Regris thinking about waiting, so he reached past Regris to shut the doors. Lance had good observational skills, damn it, and great reflexes. He was a perfectly capable chaperone for anybody.

“Uh...” Regris met his eyes in the mirror.

“Penthouse, please,” Lance said, chin high, eyes damp.

“Yes, serah.”

They arrived on the fourteenth floor. “Thanks Regris,” Lance said as he took off running again.

“You’re welcome, serah,” drifted out behind him as his feet sped down the hall.

He hit the penthouse’s foyer running, saw Haruka jump up from the parlor sofa and hooked a right turn down the hall towards his room.

“Lance! Come back!”

Lance wasn’t sure how to interpret the anxiety in her voice because it wasn’t the tone she usually took with him, so he just elected to keep running. He burst into his room – oh crap, it wasn’t his room anymore. Kuro leaped off the bed, his pretty face a picture of nothing but concern. God, the kid was so sweet Lance just couldn’t stand it. There was no way in hell he was a good enough person to ever be Kuro’s chaperone. 

Lance felt his face start to crumple.

“Lance!” And he’d forgotten to close the door behind him and here came Haruka, and if Shiro wasn’t at her heels yet then he would be shortly.

And there went Kuro, who ran to the door and hissed at whomever he saw there before slamming it shut. Living where he had and doing what he had for a living, Lance had heard angry omega yowls and warning growls plenty of times before. Most often from Keith, actually; for someone so canny with his words he was the most prone to vocalizations of any omega Lance had ever met. But only once before had he ever heard another omega hiss at somebody. 

When Lance’s cousin Barros had presented as omega, he’d been living with his abuela, who was also an omega. Some distant relative had thought to pinch himself a little side money marrying Barros off and tried to take him away from his grandmother. Lance’s family had been living next door to them at the time, so Lance had a front row seat to this event. The old Widow Karateya had burst out into the street with a face like a demon’s mask, spitting out that sharp noise that made all the little hairs on Lance’s arms stand on end. Faced with such terrifying opposition, Barros’s distant relative removed himself from the premises and never showed his face around there again.

Lance curled up in the velvet chair. When he’d imagined himself reclining there like a dilettante, he hadn’t imagined it happening quite like this. Maybe Kuro wouldn’t mind if he just spent the night in the chair. It was big enough to nap in, he could probably catch a few z’s before he had to face the music.

“Move over, sukoshi.” Kuro wriggled behind Lance on the chair and then surprised him to tears by putting his arms around him and scenting his hair. “Lance. What is wrong?”

“I’m a terrible omega, Lindo.” He shouldn’t let Kuro be so nice to him, but his sweet scent was too soothing.

“Why, because you didn’t bring me with you to Keith’s party?” Kuro let out a chirp meant to console. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“That’s not it, Lindo.” Lance couldn’t let him go on thinking he was some kind of paragon of omegahood. “Keith and I, we went back to where we came from.” Lance sniffled. “Before we met our alphas. And we took Pidge’s brother with us.”

Kuro hummed thoughtfully. “Was that such a bad thing to do?”

“It’s not a place where nice omegas go.”

“Oh.” Kuro’s hand which had been stroking Lance’s hair stilled. “Is it the sort of place where some alphas go to seek favors from omegas?”

Lance sighed. “It’s more like the sort of place those omegas live in when they’re not handing out favors.”

“You shouldn’t say terrible things about yourself.” Kuro’s hand continued with the comforting pats to Lance’s head. “My Haha once lived in such a place. I don’t understand why some people look down on the water trade. No one’s vocation is truly free from uncertainty.”

Lance shifted in Kuro’s gentle hug to peer up into his face. Kuro smiled down at him softly. “Haha thinks I don’t know anything about that, but I once got into a fight with another boy at my junior high school because he thought it would be funny to tease me for it. Chichi found out and told me that he understood my actions, but that I must never tell Haha or he would be sad.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro entered the Penthouse Suite to find Haruka wringing her hands at the end of the hall, with Kai rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to calm them both.

“You should be careful,” Haruka warned Shiro as he walked past her toward where he sensed his mate had gone. “He hissed at us!” Kai nodded confirmation of this report.

“Lance did?” He must be even angrier than Shiro had reckoned for.

“No.” Haruka shook her head. “Kuro-chan!”

Shiro felt as if his heart should be warmed by the thought of his little brother protecting his mate, but now he had to go and risk getting hissed at himself. If Kuro’s hiss was anywhere near as menacing as his mother’s, Shiro was not in for a pleasant experience. “I’m going in,” he said, before squaring his shoulders and striding down the hall.

“Good luck!” Haruka called out behind him, as he followed the wisps of scent and emotion Lance had left behind him in his rush to what he must have perceived as safety.

Supposedly omegas instinctually sought out the company of other omegas in high stress situations. Some combination of safety in numbers and combined soft scents created an assuaging effect on rising cortisol levels. It was one of the rationales used to justify the existence of omega hostels. Shiro had never been in a position to witness the phenomenon personally, but if his family was going to expand to include his little brother and Keith, then he might be seeing it more often in the future.

He hoped not, though. For one thing that would mean at least one of them was under stress, which was not something Shiro wanted insofar as he could prevent it. For another, he could smell Kuro’s flare of temper near the doorway and he could feel his own floof bristling in response, which was quite unnerving. Meanwhile he had been standing out here long enough for the anteroom to fill up with his own jittery scent. Bracing himself for any eventuality, Shiro knocked on the door.

From within, he heard whispering voices, followed by Kuro asking, “Who is it?”

Shiro suspected that Kuro knew damn well who it was, but showing his irritation would be injurious to his cause, so he suppressed it. “It’s me.” Silence. “It’s your brother.” More silence. “It’s your brother Shiro.” Echoing silence, and now Shiro was positive that Kuro was messing with him, but Kuro also still had the advantage of not being the one that Lance was upset with. “Kuro, please let me talk to Lance.”

The door creaked open just wide enough for Kuro to peer out at him with one sable eye. “You can only speak to Lance on one condition.”

“Of course.” Shiro was willing to agree to any condition, even if they asked him to go back outside and scale the building to knock on the door from the terrace. “What’s the condition?”

“You cannot behave like a raging butthole.”

This was what happened when a potty mouth like Pidge was allowed to court someone’s unfledged brother. “Who’s been teaching you how to swear?”

“Keith.”

In that moment, Shiro realized that as soon as he’d found out that Keith was related to him by his mother’s blood, he’d subconsciously given him a halo that Keith himself would probably find hilarious. It was officially ‘shake up Shiro’s preconceived notions’ day. AKA, Day One of his marriage.

Kuro started to close the door.

“Wait! I agree to your terms.”

One jet eyebrow went up expectantly. 

“I promise I won’t be a raging butthole.”

Kuro looked behind him and then stepped aside, and there stood Lance with red-rimmed eyes, making the blue stand out all the more. The anger from before had washed out, leaving behind an ache that was all too familiar to Shiro. It was the bewildered loneliness of wandering into unfamiliar territory and not knowing the way back.

Shiro held out his arms. “I’m sorry.”

Lance rushed into them and tucked his face in the crook of Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m sorry too.” His breath was warm against Shiro’s neck, not that far from the spot he’d bitten less than twenty-four hours prior. Shiro dipped his nose below Lance’s ear, close to his own claim mark. They were the perfect height for scenting each other this way.

_“A-hon.”_

They both looked up at the quiet cough and found Kuro still standing there, blushing. 

“Thank you for looking out for him, Kuro-kun.”

“I was happy to be of help,” Kuro replied, before he suddenly had an armful of Lance to contend with. They chirped at each other and scented each other’s hair while Shiro looked on in self-indulgent curiosity.

They said goodnight to one another and headed back down the hall toward the master suite. Haruka and Kai had vacated the common areas, but Shiro had an inkling they’d been eavesdropping from their room next door to Kuro’s. When they were safe in the haven of the their own room, Shiro went straight to the sitting area where the gifts had been stacked, and took out the Holts’ gag gift.

“Care for a tipple?” Shiro asked as he unscrewed the cap. “I seem to recall you saying you hadn’t enjoyed a drop all night.”

Lance chuckled ruefully. “Guess this an occasion that calls for it, isn’t it?”

“I have it on good authority that it’s better to go to bed drunk than mad.” 

Though really Shiro was only hoping to take the edge off Lance’s melancholy and his own fears before they began to talk in earnest about the evening’s events. He poured them each a tot in the silly tumblers. The Holts had selected a young, silver rum, so he splashed in some tonic water and then he linked arms with Lance.

“To compassion.”

“Compassion,” Lance agreed, and they both drank of the bittersweet liquid with their arms entwined.

“So, I guess Haruka knows I’m not a brokerage bride now.” Lance’s eyes were fixed somewhere around Shiro’s nose.

“Lance.” Shiro chucked him under the chin to raise his gaze so that their eyes could meet. “I’m reasonably certain Haruka knew that all along. Kai knew, and he tells her everything.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “But she never said anything?”

“Discretion is meant to be her watchword.” Or one of them, anyway.

Lance frowned. “No wonder I had so much trouble making friends with her.”

Shiro stroked his cheek until he raised his eyes again. “Her attitude toward the water trade is more likely to do with the idea of it being an unstable occupation than what you’re thinking of.” One thing Americans and Nipponese had in common was a cultural notion that career reflected character, but when it came down to the finer points their beliefs could diverge quite sharply. “I’m pretty sure she’s over it now.”

Lance tilted his head. “Kuro said his mother was part of that– what did you call it? Water trade.”

It was Shiro’s turn to be surprised. “He knows?”

Lance nodded. “Some kid at his school told him.”

“I wonder how much he actually knows.” A random schoolchild should not have been able to impart the whole story, but if Tatsuo had been a fixture at a teahouse in the same area as the school just prior to his marriage, then the other child might have discovered that much, and embellished upon that little bit of intelligence. “I should talk to him about it.”

Later for that, though. Now was for making things right with his own omega. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel in any way lesser than. The truth is, you’re more than I ever could have hoped I’d have in my life and sometimes I get so scared that I’ll lose you, I don’t know what to do and I overreact.” Shiro swallowed. “I overreacted. I’m so sorry.”

Lance smiled with his mouth, but his eyes still looked pained. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going. I never wanted to cause you worry.”

“Tell me what else is troubling you,” Shiro said, and when Lance hesitated, “I can feel it. Please. Let me help.” He wished he’d noticed earlier, but old fears had risen like fog to swamp his perspective.

Shiro cupped Lance’s cheek, and Lance leaned into it, closing his eyes. “I just got used to having my mamá and siblings around me again, and now they’re gone. Again.”

“Oh, honey.” Shiro gathered Lance against his chest. “They’re not gone forever. We’ll visit them often. Is that why you went back to that hostel? To be somewhere familiar?”

“Maybe?” Lance opened his eyes. “At the time I thought it was just the best of our limited choices, but now I’m starting to think maybe I wanted to see people I knew in a place that I knew. Even if it was a place where I was living on the edge. Is that dumb?”

“No.” Shiro pressed a kiss to his temple. “It’s human.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Matt carried nightclothes and a few toiletries across the hall to the guest room where Pidge had spent her first few nights in SoCal when she’d moved for her job. He couldn’t stay mad at her for her role in the snafu. Ryan had called her and convinced her the sky was falling, so she’d subsequently lost most of her evening of courting Kuro over what turned out to be a non-emergency. The whole story had come out when everyone had compared notes on the ride to where her car was parked, and she’d still been ticked about the unnecessary loss of precious courting time when she’d driven off with Keith and his alpha; an alpha who had offered up his own handkerchief to daub the small cut on Ryan’s ear. Sweet guy, that Hunk. 

Matt dropped his little bundle on the block-patterned quilt decorating the room’s full-sized bed and sighed. After days of sharing Pidge’s platform bed with Bae Bae he’d been looking forward to sleeping in the bigger sleigh bed he shared with Ryan, but he just couldn’t face it tonight. Every time he saw Ryan’s injured ear he felt guilt mingled with a desire to add some teeth marks to it, and not in the fun sexy way either. It was probably better for both of them to get a little breathing room, to bring their strong emotions under control. He picked up his bathroom essentials and turned around and there stood Ryan in the guest room doorway looking tragic.

“I only wanted to keep you safe,” he said.

“I know that,” Matt admitted. “But I need you to trust that I’m able to act in my own best interests.”

Ryan took a hesitant step forward. “I trust you.”

“Do you?” On a regular day Matt was willing to look past a little alpha posturing for that earnest look on Ryan’s face, but this hadn’t been a regular week, much less day. “Then why did you call in my mother instead of letting me be the one to decide whether I should go with you to that cocktail party?”

“Because if he’d tried anything, I don’t know if I could have controlled myself.” Ryan’s eyes were intensely green in the dim light of the hallway. “It was not you I distrusted in that situation. It was me.”

The room felt hot and airless all of the sudden. Matt could sense the truth in Ryan’s words. He wasn’t just making a dramatic declaration to get out of the doghouse. Not that he’d ever been prone to dramatics for any reason. Ryan was by nature a man of few words, so whenever he did say something dramatic he was just dropping formality to lay it on the line.

“What about your actions tonight?”

Ryan’s expression changed from intense to discomposed as they both realized that he didn’t have a reasonable explanation for that one. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“I was with Keith and Lance.”

Ryan’s classically handsome face turned stony as Bernini’s David. “I don’t know them.”

“But you know Shiro.”

Now Ryan’s eyes turned flinty. “Oh yes,” he said. “I know Shirogane.”

Matt’s ire caught anew like charred wood. “Are you kidding me? You got your shorts in a twist because I was with the mate of an ex-boyfriend?”

“Shirogane has a well-earned reputation for being a poor steward of his omega companions.” The spark flew from Matt to Ryan. “Forgive me for being concerned when I heard that you had left the shelter of your sister’s company to go to a seamy neighborhood with an omega who would voluntarily take up with that libertine.”

That was uncharitable at best. “You’ve met Hunk now, darling,” Matt said sweetly. “Would you describe him as a libertine?”

He enjoyed watching the conflicting emotions play on his mate’s face as he did some mental gymnastics while trying to justify applying such a label to the kind man who’d patched up his ear after Matt so indelicately removed his bluetooth earpiece.

“What were the three of you doing in that hostel?” Ryan finally asked.

Question dodger. Two could play that game.

“Dancing,” Matt replied.

“With a working girl!” 

“Life didn’t hand Malocoti a title and a string of pearls, okay? She had to play the hand she was dealt.”

Abstractly, Matt had known that he was born into some degree of privilege. Concretely, he had not realized just what that really meant until meeting the denizens of the hostel, whose relative freedom came at such a steep cost. And Keith and Lance used to live there too, implying they’d once had to make similar tough decisions on how to get by. Decisions of a sort Matt had never been faced with, though he’d chafed at the restrictions placed upon him; restrictions which still felt like invisible bars but which Keith and Lance seemed to view as more like a veil that could be parted at will or need. Matt had gained a new perspective on how much a simple difference in circumstances could affect someone’s life, and he didn’t intend on losing it. 

“I wish we didn’t live in a world where omegas had to do such things to survive,” Ryan said, “but we do, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to protect you from it.”

“Maybe instead of trying to protect me from the whole world, you could think about trying to change the world so that I don’t need to be protected from it all the time.” Matt brushed past Ryan to get to the hall bathroom. “I’m sorry I hurt your ear.”

He was sorry for a lot of things right that minute, but he still wasn’t sorry for going to Keith’s bachelor party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I was gonna let Shiro and Lance go to bed mad on their first full day as a married couple, did you?


	16. Move Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling happens. Errands are run. Curtis and Adam finally get it together. Tatsuo gets life coached. Matt, Keith and Lance discover they have social media presences. Colleen might just be nosier than Hunk. Shiro and Keith bond over Halloween treats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the reads, kudos and comments! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, luminiferousaether, Inoshi and Yo-buddy!

  
Colleen had a connecting flight with another long layover in Dulles, which was where she decided to change her destination from San Francisco to L.A. When she’d called home Sam had told her there’d been some drama with Matt taking off unexpectedly on one of his misadventures, but that he’d been found safe and sullen about being tracked down like a lost lamb. Colleen still had some personal leave left, why not use it for its stated purpose? It had been a while since she’d visited Matt in his home instead of having him come home to her, and she’d yet to see Pidge’s apartment. Habit had her scrolling through travel booking sites for last minute hotel deals, even though she’d half a mind to ask Ryan to put her up in his guest room. 

Then she saw a deal that was just too perfect to pass up, and clicked on it at once. Maybe she could lay more than one worry to rest during this side excursion.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Curtis learned after the fact that he’d made it as far as Genesee Park before totaling his rental car, and that he had not been on the wrong side of the median but the vehicle that ran him off the road surely had been. Based on Curtis’s reckoning of the height and width of the headlights, and the skid marks left on the icy road, the investigating officers believed it to have been a mud truck which had subsequently caused another fender bender farther down the highway. 

The rental agency who’d leased him the car was now trying to charge him for ‘loss of use’ on all damages to the car, including the condition it had been in when he left in it. Thank goodness he’d snapped a picture of the car’s passenger side damage with his phone before leaving the parking lot. He might have been misguided in his quest, but he hadn’t completely taken leave of his senses. The company that handled his traveler’s insurance was meticulously unraveling the whole debacle, and Curtis would stoically weather the personal embarrassment if it meant a fair accounting at the end.

He’d spent the night under observation at St. Anthony’s for mild whiplash, moderate hypothermia and myriad cuts and bruises, and been released the next morning with a gel neck wrap, some prescriptions, and a folder’s worth of aftercare instructions. He’d had to go back to the same airport where he’d made a nuisance of himself the previous day and decided to upgrade to premium economy on his return trip to New York, unwilling to face three hours of sitting with his sore legs cramped in so close that his knees were touching the tray table. Then he’d lucked out and gotten a window seat behind a floating bulkhead, so he could stretch his legs into first class. He did that, and fell fast asleep.

_“...please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign...”_

Curtis blinked awake as the plane taxied down the runway. He looked out the porthole window and saw slate grey skies over slate blue water: he was back in New York. He shuffled his stiff limbs into an upright position, trying to psyche himself up for the forthcoming expedition to take a shuttle, then a taxi, and finally a train to get to the station where he’d then have to decide if he wanted to walk the rest of the way home or catch a bus. At least he wouldn’t have to haul luggage with him, since he’d only taken a cross-body bag as carry-on in his rash attempt to stop Shiro from marrying some guy who was probably harmless. 

When the flight attendant gave them permission to turn on their cell phones, Curtis did so and found messages waiting from Adam, and smiled. His trip, as spectacularly disaster-prone as it had turned out to be, had also turned out more favorably than he could have ever guessed when he’d set out.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro turned over in silk sheets and found a warm spot next to him that smelled like Lance, but no warm body to go with it. He chuffled because he knew Lance was close enough to hear him, and was rewarded with a soft laugh. He opened his eyes as Lance’s weight tipped the mattress, and then, because he could, put his arms around his spouse’s waist and his face into his clothed belly. Lance was dressed in the t-shirt and joggers he’d bought during their very first week together.

“Where are you going so early?” Shiro was most definitely not whining. It was a legitimate concern, and he was not whining.

Lance laughed again as he threaded his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “I’m going with Haruka to pick up Keith and Hunk because their car is still parked here, and then we’re gonna take Kuro with us to go do a thing.” There was something bubbly in the bond sense that suggested this was some kind of surprise they’d cooked up for Keith’s wedding. “You can sleep in querido, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Shiro raised his face to look up into his omega’s eyes. “You can always wake me if you’re leaving to go somewhere. I don’t want to miss kissing you good morning.”

“Well then.” Lance cupped Shiro’s jaw and leaned down for a lingering kiss. “Same goes.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shinji had rented them adjoining rooms at a spa resort with a view of the Santa Monica mountains. After an invigorating drive, they had supped on acceptable sushi in one of the establishment’s restaurants before retiring to separate beds. They had arisen with the daybreak to share a morning meal of sencha, omelets made with egg whites and herbs, and green smoothies which tasted pleasantly grassy. Shinji left to attend to his business dealings, telling the concierge that Tatsuo could put anything he liked on Shinji’s tab.

What Tatsuo would have preferred would have been more of Shinji’s company. But since he was left to his own devices and he had said that he wanted to achieve clarity of mind before making any life-changing decisions, he might as well see what this facility had to offer. He had therefore scheduled a consultation with a Life Strategist that was to take place in less than an hour. He would bathe, dress, and compose his thoughts, and then see if this strategist had anything worthwhile to say to him. 

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_Your kid’s showing up in memes. Thought you should know._

Colleen had sent a missive to her higher ups letting them know of her status, copied to some colleagues she’d been working with on the Manigford case, and gotten a quick response from an L.A. based agent named Mary Ann. The message was followed by a series of photo images of three male omegas captured in rowdy poses through the open windows of an enormous SUV, with captions like COME ON BARBIE LET’S GO PARTY and PARTY PEOPLE ASSEMBLE. Colleen recognized her son at once, and once again experienced the momentary shock of seeing McClain’s face on Shiro’s bride. She didn’t recognize the brunet with the porcelain pretty features, but process of elimination said he must be the other bride Sam had mentioned, someone named Keith.

_“At this time please ensure your portable electronic devices are set to airplane mode...”_

The flight attendant finally made the particular announcement which Colleen had been half-listening for. Ah, well. There would be plenty of time to run the SUV’s plates and start background checks on her son’s new friends later.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Matt helped himself to a cup of coffee from the fresh pot he’d just made and took it into the dining room. He’d spent a restless morning thinning the Tardiva Hydrangea his dad had given him as a housewarming gift, and then decided to put some of the dusky pink blooms in ball jars scattered around the bottom floor. Hardy grower that Tardiva; it hadn’t been in their tiny yard a full year and it was already trying to take over the whole patch of garden. He kicked back in a chair at the mahogany dining set that had once belonged to Ryan’s grandmother, sipping his coffee and musing on the fluffy pink blossoms erupting out of a jar in the center of the table.

His contemplation of nature’s glory was interrupted by a cell phone screen with Instagram open to a memed-up image of himself, Keith and Lance whooping it up in the SUV the previous evening. IT’S BEER O’CLOCK DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR OMEGA IS? He followed the hand holding the cell phone to its attached arm up to Ryan’s disconcerted face.

“Morning, dear.” Matt slurped coffee.

“People I work with are forwarding these to me,” Ryan said, the very picture of husbandly solicitude.

Matt scowled. “It’s just a candid shot of us having fun.” They weren’t drinking in the photo, they had all of their clothes on, and none of those clothes happened to be a uniform. If anyone on base was getting uptight it was over nothing much.

“Look at the comments!” Ryan was not appeased. “It’s not that you were having fun, it’s all of these strangers speculating on who you are and what you were doing.”

“You’ve never worried about that kind of thing before.”

“You’ve never been the focus of so many strangers before!”

Matt felt the serenity he’d managed to achieve start to wither. He took his coffee into the kitchen to put it in a thermos. “I’m going back outside to finish weeding the garden. Hopefully no strangers will drive by to take my picture.” 

“Can’t you try to see it my way?”

Matt paused to look over his shoulder at Ryan standing there looking unhappy. “I’ll meet you halfway if you’ll try to see it from mine.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Curtis decided to take the bus. His spirit was willing to walk, but his legs which had braced to the point of muscle strain in the previous day’s crash were all, ‘fuck that’ and luckily for his legs, the bus he needed wasn’t crowded at that time of day so he was able to sit down. The bus dropped him off mere steps from his building, but then he had to face four flights of stairs. It was his own fault, really. He had been one of the co-op members to vote for keeping the building as a walk-up instead of removing the fancifully ornate fire escapes to put in an exterior lift.

Curtis hauled himself past one landing after another until he arrived at his own, and then trudged to his front door. He rummaged in his jacket pocket for his keys, then remembered he’d used the keychain’s carabiner to attach them to his belt loop on the bus ride over, in anticipation of wanting to just get the door open and stumble toward his couch. While he was standing there pondering the ineffable mechanics of his own brain, the door opened revealing Adam wearing an orange-striped apron and a frowny expression. The sound of toenails on wood tippy-tapped over and then Laika poked her huge fuzzy head around Adam’s hip.

“My mother made you chicken soup,” Adam said, “and I just warmed it up, and it’s damn good soup, so you should eat some.” He stared Curtis down through his half-rim glasses as if daring him to say no. Laika offered him a big doggy smile with lolling tongue.

"How do you know I'm not a vegetarian?" Curtis realized that was not the appropriate response only as the last syllable was being uttered.

Adam’s eyes narrowed like he was thinking of shutting the door in Curtis’s face and leaving him standing alone outside of his own apartment. Laika suddenly popping back out of sight reinforced that impression. Adam stepped back, but before he could complete the movement Curtis stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, eliciting a surprised trill.

“Because I'm not a vegetarian, I just didn't know how you knew that.” Curtis breathed in Adam’s scent, a powdery-earthy fragrance that was elegantly subtle from a distance but evolved into something intoxicating so close to his skin. Orris root. It was incredibly rare for an omega’s scent to mimic any part of a flowering plant besides the petals, but when it came to Adam rarity was par for the course. "Thank you."

Adam trilled again, a reservedly pleased sound. “You’re welcome.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance realized something was up when Klaizap would not stop grinning at him and Keith during the entire rehearsal. Granted, he was an expressive little dude, but he was being awfully smiley throughout the whole session. When they were finally leaving with the routine as ironed out as it was going to get, Klaizap waved off their thanks with a wink and, “Us party people gotta stick together.”

“That got weird,” Keith said as he and his honor attendants walked out to the curb where the SUV was parked at a meter. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, bro,” Lance said.

“Did someone put confetti on the vehicle?” Haruka, who had elected herself as their driver on this fine day and was therefore taking the lead, leaned across the hood and gingerly swept away colorful debris that yep, that was confetti strewn across the hood of the Sequoia.

“Maybe someone heard you just got married,” Keith snerked at Lance.

“Maybe somebody heard you’re getting married,” Lance shot back, and now he remembered that they needed to figure out decorations to turn Hunk’s car into the getaway car. He had to coordinate with Shay, ASAP. Where could a person find just enough bunting to cover a moon roof in this town?

Before he could think of snatching his cell phone out of his messenger bag it tootled out a bar of _The Well-Tempered Clavier_. Shiro was texting him. Several other ring tones joined his in cacophony. Shiro was texting all four of them.

_Hi everybody hope your thing went well. Meet me for lunch? My treat._

Included with this was a map sharing the location of a restaurant just around the block. 

“I am hungry,” Kuro admitted.

“How did he know where we were?” Keith asked.

“Same way I know he’s already at the restaurant waiting for us,” Lance said, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Soon that’ll be you, young padawan.”

“I’m older than you are, youngling,” Keith pointed out.

“How did he know we were doing something together?” Haruka fretted, realizing at the same time as the rest of them that Lance was going to have a hard time keeping secrets from Shiro, which meant they would have to hope that Shiro wouldn’t let anything slip to Hunk.

“He doesn’t know it’s a dance rehearsal,” Lance told her. “Anyway, have you ever met an alpha better at keeping his lips zipped than Shiro?”

Haruka had to concede that she hadn’t and the group of four took the one way street around the block to meet Shiro at an Italian restaurant that he must have walked to from the hotel. Lance wondered if he’d just homed in on him and then picked the nearest restaurant once he’d located him.

A host in an immaculate dinner jacket led them past floor-to-ceiling windows flooded with late morning sunlight to a round table where Shiro stood to greet them. He kissed Lance and smiled at the others and said, “I already ordered us antipasti to start with, I hope you don’t mind.”

“What sort of Italian cuisine are we having?” Kuro asked as the host pulled out his chair.

“Northern Italian, serah” the host replied.

“That is the part of Italy where Pidge’s ancestors came from!” Kuro looked thoroughly enthralled at the association.

Lance and Keith exchanged looks. What happened to the Kuro who was shy about courting? They would have to broach the topic with him later, when there weren’t chaperoney types hovering about. Lance felt Shiro’s curiosity and was grateful when he too resolved to shelve it for later.

Their host was replaced by a waiter in a tie and apron, who brought them the platter of antipasti and a basket of warm bread with butter. Kuro went for the bread with impressive relish. The waiter took their orders and left them to their relative privacy. They’d arrived ahead of the lunch rush, so while they weren’t alone in the dining room, they were also not seated very close to other occupied tables.

“There are several matters I want to go over with you guys,” Shiro said, “but I guess I should start with the one that’s most pressing. Have any of you seen this yet?” He held up his phone’s screen to reveal a meme.

IT IS TUESDAY. TIME TO PARTAY. Sandwiched between these two statements was a picture of Lance, Keith and Matt trying to re-enact the “Single Ladies” video while seated in a giant SUV that had been busting the speed limit at the time.

Haruka gasped. “Oh my gracious.”

Kuro pouted. “You had more fun than you told me you did.”

Keith sighed. “Guess that explains the confetti.”

“We weren’t trying to attract attention.” Lance wasn’t sorry for the party, all things considered, but he hadn’t intended to do anything that might risk calling negative attention to Shiro. It occurred to him that this was something he was going to have to weigh in any decisions he made in the future, even if Shiro wasn’t going to be an active participant in whatever he happened to be doing. He’d known he’d have to watch his image from now on because he was marrying a man who had a public image to worry about, but he hadn’t realized that might mean he had to watch himself when he was just goofing off with friends.

“I know you weren’t, honey.” Shiro took his hand under the table. “I’m not upset. I just think we need to be prepared for some unexpected scrutiny until this dies down. Especially if word gets out about Keith’s wedding being tomorrow.”

Yeah, that definitely had the potential of going to an awkward place.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Pidge resisted the temptation to ask questions as they claimed a small table next to the koi pond in the market’s back patio area. Her mother had shown up at Hawkins Aircraft Company acting like there was nothing out of the ordinary about her turning up on a weekday, in the middle of the day, to take her daughter out to lunch in a town where she did not in fact live or work herself. Pidge had kept the conversation in the car on the way over super casual, like, ‘Oh, a Tesla?’ and her mom was all like, ‘Yah, I’m thinking of getting one, decided to test drive a rental first’ completely ignoring the Matt-shaped elephant in the car. Because there was no way in hell she wasn’t here because of Matt, but her mother had an unfair skill advantage in turning questions around on the questioner. Pidge shook her matcha drink with more vigor than was probably required to break up the jelly layer inside the bottle.

“No Grumppuccino today?” Colleen asked, sounding surprised.

“I’m venturing out of my comfort zone,” Pidge replied.

Colleen leaned forward with her elbows on the red tablecloth. “Really?”

Oh no. Was it possible that Pidge had misread her mother’s tells and Colleen was actually here to grill her on her own love life? Gotta shut that down pronto. Reverse course! “So what’s Matt done this time.”

Colleen leaned back, eyebrow twitching at the abruptness with which Pidge had shifted the conversation, but apparently the distraction worked, because the next thing she said was, “Did you know your brother was trending on Twitter this morning?”

Oh, that. Of course. _Play dumb_. “No. Really? Why?”

“Look at this.” 

Then Colleen surprised her daughter again, when instead of reaching into her own bag for her own damn phone, she reached for Pidge’s phone lying on the table between them. Pidge snorted a chunk of matcha jelly in her haste to put down her drink and snatch the phone back, but she was a microsecond too slow. Seemingly oblivious to her daughter’s sudden angst, Colleen tapped open the Twitter app and discovered Pidge’s most recent Tweet.

“Katie!”

There were several pictures of the dynamic trio circulating on social media, taken from different angles through different windows. This one was an angled through-the-windshield shot of her brother framed between Keith and Lance because he’d pushed up the second row console so that he could sprawl across the middle seats like a baby moose. All three of them had their hands up in sassy poses that showed off two wedding rings and an engagement ring. KNEW THE SONG WAS FOR ALL THE SINGLE LADIES. DIDN’T CARE.

“It was already out in the wild by the time I did that,” Pidge insisted. “Having my fun wasn’t going to make that situation any stupider than it already was.” Anyway, what little sister could possibly be expected to resist getting in on that action? It’d be like expecting Bae Bae not to scarf down a hot dog balanced on the end of her nose.

“What do you know about those two?” Colleen had a serious look on her face at odds with the silliness of the picture she was pointing at.

“Stand down, Serpico.” Pidge unwrapped her sandwich. “It’s just Keith and Lance. You know, Shiro’s new ball and chain, Lance? And my new friend Keith. They were taking him out for his bachelor party.”

“To an omega hostel,” Colleen muttered, eyes distant.

“If you already talked to Ryan about it, I don’t know why you’re questioning me,” Pidge grumbled as she peeked inside the filone roll to make sure there was enough olive oil in there. If the deli line cook got the ratio of olive oil to vinegar wrong then she’d have to take the pickles off the sandwich to balance out the flavors.

“You’re courting Shiro’s little brother, of course I’d want to know more about that whole family, sweetie.” Colleen twirled a forkful of strawberry and spinach salad in lemon dressing. “After all, they might become your in-laws.”

Damn it. “Don’t call in favors from your buddies to check on Kuro’s background.” Pidge pointed a sliced pickle at her mother. “You know how paranoid that family can get. It could get flagged and Shiro’s stepmother would find out and I might be blocked from seeing him, and I don’t want to chance it.”

Colleen looked mildly chastened. “I don’t want to mess up your chances with this boy if you really like him.”

Pidge relaxed marginally.

“So tell me everything you know about Lance and Keith.”

Damn it!

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Tatsuo was visited in his accommodation’s sunny sitting room by a middle-aged beta woman named Ariella who wore her cumbrous amount of red hair piled right on top of her head. It was rather distracting because she did not slow her movements to account for the mass redistribution. How was she moving her head so easily without losing her balance? The woman asked him what he wanted to do with his life and he’d snapped back, “I don’t know yet, that’s why I’m conversing with you.” Not in the least bit put out by this response, she wrote something in a little book she carried with her, and then asked Tatsuo if there were any areas of his life he felt unhappy about.

“I am... in want of company.” It was difficult to admit to, but it had been affecting his choices so he had to face up to it. He had been on the verge of withholding his own child from taking part in society, thereby leaving the continuation of Ryu’s line up to the elder son who did not honor his father’s memory. Shinji had been correct to question Tatsuo’s judgment. 

Ariella nodded, a small gesture writ large by her fountain of hair. “Have you given any thought to what a future with companionship would be like?”

Tatsuo had been invited to take a moment for reflection, so he did. Ariella waited patiently.

“I would have a more benevolent relationship with my son,” he said finally. “I would be able to hold a conversation with my stepson without either of us feeling compelled to resort to lowly speech. I would have useful tasks to occupy my days, and I would have Shinji-san in my life.” 

Here Tatsuo paused. He had been about to say, ‘like he used to be,’ but that was no longer true. They were no longer the same people they had been when they’d met. Their expectations for how life could unfold had matured.

Now Tatsuo dared to want more than how it used to be.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The gnocchi, minestrone and flatbread sandwiches had been cleared away and the diners all sat nursing espressos in the afterglow of hearty eating and productive chatting. 

“If you wish to use the Sequoia to escort Keith and Kuro to see the test proctor, then I can take Lance and Kai shopping with me in the Prius,” Haruka said. “There are still some things that need to be acquired before the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Lance traded significant looks with her across the table. He knew and she knew that they could get Hunk and Keith’s wedding registry gifts delivered if they had to, but they’d both feel better if they attended to it personally. Along with a bunch of other errands. Maybe they could even manage to meet up with Shay before they left the hotel again.

Their waiter returned to their table carrying the check and a tiramisu cake with a flickering candle poking out of the center of it. “Buona giornata!” He handed the check to Shiro and set the cake down in front of Keith.

Keith looked askance at Shiro, whose smile, relaxed posture and another element that Lance was still growing accustomed to being able to sense all indicated that he was currently feeling happy with his choices in life.

“Your birthday was only a week ago and you’re getting married tomorrow,” Shiro said. “It struck me as being plenty of reason to celebrate.”

“Go ahead,” Lance said encouragingly, “make a wish.”

Keith smiled a secret smile and blew out the candle.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Ariella had recommended that Tatsuo have some tests done to determine the general state of his health. Tatsuo felt himself to be in reasonably good health for his age, but he really didn’t have anything better to do until Shinji returned, so he walked on a treadmill for the fitness expert and filled out the nutritionist’s questionnaire, then permitted himself to be put into a compression garment so that his body measurements could be taken inside a contraption called the Bod Pod.

Now he was changed into a plush cotton robe and bidden to put on headphones and recline in another pod. This one was supposed to help him meditate. He’d already told the attendants that he knew very good and well how to meditate, but they’d just smiled and blessed him with their silly voices while ushering him over to the glowing egg. There was a touchscreen pad inside the structure with which he was meant to program his session.

“It’s to help you focus your intentions,” said the attendant who was currently helping him, “so that you can attract good things into your life!”

Tatsuo had been brought up to believe that meditation was a discipline and that wishes were for the Star Festival, but he allowed the attendant to show him the different menus and submenus on the touchscreen pad. The attendant seemed to be trying to soft-sell him on choosing the one that would program him to relax. That would probably make him easier for the attendant to handle, or so she must have been hoping, but truthfully Tatsuo had already chosen his session. He was simply delaying by allowing her to pitch him her preferred session, because he had chosen the one that frightened him the most.

Enough with temporizing. Fall down seven times, get up eight. Tatsuo mashed the session for Love before he could allow the attendant to talk him out of it.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Colleen did a circuit of the room after dropping her bags in the closet. It was spacious and more luxe than she would have budgeted for herself without the substantial online discount, with stylishly fussy details and a decent view of the valet station from the expansive window. The second floor was just high enough to discourage opportunists from trying to break in, but not so high that she couldn’t jump out of the window to ground level if she had to, and this floor also had a conveniently accessible skyway connecting it to the other wing. It wouldn’t be difficult to monitor the comings and goings of Shiro’s entourage from here. She already knew what at least one of them was driving.

Colleen’s phone buzzed from her purse; she fished it out. Mary Ann was calling her back.

“It’s Holt.”

_“Hey, I checked up on Heckle and Jeckle for you, and neither of them have arrest records, which is a damn miracle for where they were living.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Yeah, you should see the list of knowns with the same address, it’s the size of a phone book. Anyway, Kogane used to work at a strip joint in the same area before the City Council started pushing for gentrification over that way. No visible means of support between when that place knuckled under and when he started paying taxes again this month.”_

“Three guess what that means and the first two don’t count.”

_“Right? But listen, I found something out about the other kid...”_ Mary Ann paused, and well she might.

“Go ahead and lay it out for me,” Colleen sighed.

_“I guess we didn’t look hard enough at Chip’s background when we verified him for undercover work.”_

She’d been afraid that’s what she was going to hear, but somehow deep down she’d already known as soon as she’d laid eyes on Lance McClain Álvarez’s eerily familiar smile. Colleen hadn’t exactly been close to Charles Lance McClain, at least not what she would consider to be close. He had never been an official member of her team. She had only worked with him a handful of times, but he made a strong impression; such that she had given him one of the references which had allowed him to move onto the deep cover assignment he’d never returned from. If she’d had any idea that he had a kid, she’d have never given him her reference, and she liked to hope that if he’d been aware there was a kid then he wouldn’t have asked for one in the first place.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro was reminded that it was Halloween when they arrived at the school to meet Danko-sensei and found her wearing a striped helmet over her curly hair. She also had on a purple cape over painted foam armor, her peaceful bearing an incongruous element compared with the costume.

｢Our Halloween party is tonight. You are welcome to stay if you would like.｣

Danko had greeted them in Nihongo and then waited patiently for them to respond in kind. Keith had warned them ahead of time that she would not reply if they were to address her in English. It wasn’t that Danko didn’t speak English; according to Keith the beta’s English was flawless. It was that they were attending to a gakuen-related errand while on campus and it was simply expected that one switched to Nihongo during the time they were there.

｢Thank you for your kind offer, however we have a prior engagement. The rehearsal dinner for Keith’s wedding is tonight.｣

Shiro wanted to put his hands on Keith’s shoulders like a proud older cousin when he said that, but he remembered what Lance had told him about Keith’s preference to initiate touching privileges, so he satisfied himself with nodding fondly in his direction.

｢I have received the wedding invitation and will surely attend. Congratulations, Kogane-san.｣ 

Danko’s warm regard seemed sincere, if reserved by the behavioral customs Shiro had grown more habituated to.

｢Thank you, Sensei.｣

Keith’s demeanor in this woman’s presence was markedly more sober than Shiro had grown accustomed to seeing from him.

｢Shirogane-kun, please come with me to my office and we will converse about your educational requirements. Shirogane-san and Kogane-san may stay here and enjoy some treats if they would like.｣

They bowed to one another and then Danko led Kuro down a hallway with uchiwa fans lining the walls between group portraits of staff and alumni. Keith and Shiro had been left alone in the reception room, where a large bowl of wrapped candies had been placed in the center of the presently-unmanned receptionist’s desk. Keith selected a little carton of Koala’s March cookies from the top of the bowl. The packaging had a pumpkin on it, but the kanji said it was chocolate flavored. Keith took his prize to one of the guest chairs and crinkly noises soon emanated from that corner.

Shiro looked over the bowl’s contents, hands folded behind his back to resist the temptation to paw through it like a child. He saw a Choco Pie with a spooky forest on the packaging and snatched it up. How long had it been since he’d had one of these? Too long. He took his treat over to a seat beside Keith, who acknowledged him with a closed-lip smile around a mouthful of cookie.

“You know those are just Moon Pies in cuter packaging, right?” Keith said, mouth still a little gummy from cookies.

“No they are not,” Shiro scoffed as he opened the wrapper and got his first creamy-malty whiff of milk chocolate. “These have cake.” There was a world of difference between snack cake and graham cookies in Shiro’s estimation.

Then he remembered where he was and who he was talking to, and whipped his head around afraid he would find his newly discovered cousin in a tiff, only to find him sitting in the chair trying to contain his mirth. 

“Oh shit,” Keith whispered. “We totally forgot the language rule in Danko-sensei’s domain.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Shiro raised his cake-having Choco Pie for a dink.

“Deal.” Keith dinked with a little koala-shaped cookie.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The wedding party posse picked up Shay at the valet station as she was getting out of her brother’s car, but it turned out to be Haruka who knew where to find the getaway car decorations. She’d been there a couple of days earlier getting supplies for Lance’s wedding. There was a party supply store less than four miles from all the swank. Welcome to Los Angeles. 

However, it was still a good thing they had Shay with them, because Haruka had IDEAS about what Keith needed for his wedding, and Lance needed Shay’s gentle but firm hand to help keep her in check. Also Krolia’s and Alana’s, after the wedding party posse called them to ask if there was anything they needed and subsequently wound up with an itemized list. Kai was also with them, but Lance had learned that his ability to keep anybody’s impulsive behavior in check pretty much began and ended with Shiro.

They left the party supply store with so much stuff that they filled up the entire cargo area of the little Prius C that Haruka had rented. So much for checked impulses! They had to put their backs into closing the hatch, which finally shut with a jingling clank and a displacement of fluffy fabric that burst forth into the back seat area. At least they’d managed to avert ordering custom paddle fans with Keith’s face on them. Haruka’s heart was in the right place, but Lance knew Keith would look at those and see a makeshift slapping implement, not a memento.

“We are going to have to make a pit stop,” Haruka declared, and Lance, Shay and Kai agreed this was undoubtedly so. Because there was now no more room for any actual wedding gifts in the vehicle, and visibility was too impeded for them to go very far until they unloaded the cargo hatch.

They drove the party supply loot back to the hotel and then thankfully didn’t have to figure out where to leave it because Nadia Rizavi was on duty and said she’d take care of it. Once that was dealt with, they drove back down the street to the department store where Coran worked, that being the nearest place where Hunk and Keith had opened a registry. Coran met them at the bottom of the staircase alongside a colleague he introduced as Manset: a heavyset beta with a red goatee and an eccentric manner that might lend itself to an assumption that the two of them were related, if not for the notable difference in accents.

“Manset here will be your guide to the Housewares department,” Coran said. “I’ll tell you straight off though, you might want to allow us to have Shiro’s gift delivered.”

Keith and Hunk, probably in an effort to make gift selection less stressful for their guests, had put several mix-and-match style collections on their registry. One of those had been for a luggage collection. Shiro had gone online at some point between the previous day and the current one and purchased all of the luggage collection on the registry. Just, all of it.

“Hunk doesn’t actually travel very often,” Shay said softly after they’d been shown the towering stack of soft-sided luggage ready to go . . . somewhere. “Does Keith?”

“No,” Lance said slowly, “but now if they ever need to travel they won’t have trouble packing.”

Lance suspected this was actually part of a larger gift, but didn’t want to steal any of Shiro’s thunder so he diplomatically chose not to mention it. Shiro had asked a ton of questions about Keith’s interests before they’d gone to sleep, all angelical wide-eyed curiosity, and Lance, not one to discourage getting to know family, had indulged him. He just hoped Hunk and Keith wouldn’t have any trouble obtaining passports.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“So, Paris?” Shiro had been refreshingly pleasant company while they waited together, even if he occasionally ventured into a tone that sounded a lot like whenever Akane used to bring home some guy who had delusions of becoming Keith’s step-cousin. “It’s a beautiful city.” Kind of like right now. 

Shiro was obviously curious. Keith supposed he couldn’t blame him. After packing out of the Hollywood omega hostel that day which felt like a lifetime ago but was in actuality barely a month, they’d caravanned over to Culver City to help unload Keith’s belongings into Hunk’s house, and, well. Keith had gone through a teenage decorating phase that he’d carried with him into adulthood out of financial necessity, and Shiro was proving to be anything but unobservant.

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “I kinda had a fascination.” 

He still couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before how much Shiro resembled his father in build, the shape of his head, and the line of his jaw. Maybe it was the scar. Shiro had a pink, shiny one across the bridge of his nose, whereas Dad had a pale one bisecting his right eyebrow; both focal points that led the eye to skim past other elements of the face on first meeting. Or maybe it was the hair. Dad had shaggy Kogane hair, and had kept his dark brown hair color well into his thirties. 

Keith had two koala yummies left, but Shiro had already finished his marshmallow pie. He offered Shiro one of the two little cookies. Shiro accepted it as if he’d been offered a brick of gold.

“Thank you.”

Keith smiled at the gravity with which the little cookie had been taken from his hand by a man who could probably buy a warehouse full if he really wanted to. “It’s no trouble.” He nibbled his cookie, savoring the chocolate filling. “I learned in school how the first aeronautics club to allow omegas was in Paris.” He’d used to stare out of upper storey windows at home and at school wondering what it must be like to fly over them, up into the beautiful sky with a panoramic view of the world below. “Most of the first omega aviators were French. I guess I got a little star struck.”

“You wanted to fly.” Shiro sounded impressed.

“Yeah.” It had been a quiet wish since his teenage years. Whenever he blew out a candle or tossed a coin in a fountain, he’d let himself want it, just for a moment. “I did.”

Even with the sweet turns of fate his life had recently taken, he still did.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hunk had a million and one things going on. He had to liaise between his head chef and his mom, direct his A/V team and his decorating team on how they were repurposing the stuff they’d ordered for Lubos’s canceled “Love Yourself to a Life of Leisure” seminar, and redirect the attention of a society columnist who’d tried to shake him down for information about Shiro’s wedding by inviting her to his own wedding. And that was on top of all of his normal duties. So when a new buddy’s phone number rang through on his cell phone’s caller ID, he gladly retreated to his office to make time for her call. It was time for a break.

“Hey Pidge, what’s shaking?”

_“Hi Hunk! I’m RSVPing to your wedding with my plus one, but it won’t be Matt this time.”_

“I’m glad you can make it! Tell Matt he’ll be missed.” It was kind of a bummer actually, but Hunk was mannerly enough not to put it in those terms. He found Matt to be lively company and he knew Keith had been looking forward to dancing with him again at the reception.

_“Oh, he’s probably still coming. Ryan’s on leave, so he’s got no excuse to say no to being Matt’s escort. Nobody can wheedle better than Matt can. Since Kuro can’t be my plus one ‘cause he’s in the wedding, I’m bringing my mom.”_

“That’s cool.” Hunk was relieved to hear it. “She’s more than welcome. Mi casa es su casa, literally sometimes.”

_“Yeah.”_ Pidge sounded a little uncomfortable. _“Before you lay out the welcome mat, I feel like I ought to let you know that she’s a federal agent and she’s very overprotective of my brother. And she’s seen the memes, and also, she just showed up in town and she’s checking into your hotel today.”_

Hunk, too, had seen the memes and picked up the clues Pidge was laying down for him. “Thanks for the heads up.”

_“Don’t worry about it.”_

Armed with that knowledge, Hunk pulled up the register on his computer and found that Colleen Holt had already checked in. A quick call to the front desk confirmed that she’d parked a rental car using the valet service and had yet to retrieve it. Lots of guests enjoyed exploring the shopping district on foot, but since that wasn’t her true purpose here, Hunk felt confident his assumption that she was still in residence was the correct one, so he acted on it.

“We have a VIP on the second floor?” Tagor asked when he saw the deluxe fruit plate. He was the elevator operator currently on duty in the Wilshire wing, and while he was more tactful with the guests than Regris, with coworkers he tended to let that guard drop.

“Wedding guest,” Hunk explained, then had a brainstorm. “Colleen Holt, she’s the mother of a friend. I’d like to make sure she feels attended to.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

“I appreciate that, Tagor.”

Within the hour Hunk should have eyes on Colleen Holt’s movements within the hotel from well-meaning staff who only wanted to see to her comfort. There was a reason that Tagor’s nickname was Tag.

Hunk carried the fruit plate down the hall to the room Pidge’s mother had reserved. At his knock, the door was opened by a willowy woman with short hair and sharp eyes. It seemed Matt had inherited all of his mother’s height, while Pidge had inherited her situational acuity. From the quick glance up at Hunk’s face and down at nature’s bounty heaped on a plate in his hands, it also seemed that Colleen Holt was rapidly putting together what he was really doing there.

“I didn’t order room service.” Her tone was flatly polite.

“It’s a gift,” Hunk said. When she didn’t respond, he added, “And an offering in the hopes that we might have a fruitful discussion.”

“Very well.” Colleen stepped aside to let him in.

Hunk smiled as graciously as he knew how and carried the plate over to the room’s sitting area, where he could see that she’d already made herself comfortable with a Red Bull from the minibar. A glance out the window revealed a glimpse of Bii-Boh-Bi at his station waiting for the next person coming or going. “Are you enjoying the view?”

“I’m finding it satisfactory.”

Colleen turned the desk chair around to face him, so Hunk set the fruit plate on the dresser and took the armchair.

“So how did I rate a visit from the General Manager himself?”

Most guests never bothered to read the staff bios on the hotel’s website and only realized what Hunk’s role was if he introduced himself by his title. This lady had bothered. Might as well operate on the theory that she knew even more than that.

“I believe that we share a common interest.”

Colleen raised a strawberry blonde eyebrow. “And that is?”

“My fiancé and your son are currently starring in some memes together.”

“Then you understand why it’s important to keep close tabs on them.” Colleen leaned forward, elbows on knees in a pose similar to one that Matt had taken during the after-party, but where Matt had been all joie de vivre, his mother was all business. “This world wants to treat them like a product for consumption. I see it at work all the time. It’s my job as a parent to keep watch over him.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think locking them away like Rapunzel is the answer.” Hunk mirrored her posture in an effort to build a rapport. “What good is protecting your loved ones from the world if they never get to enjoy the good parts of it?”

“They’d be safe.” Colleen sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

Hunk wasn’t about to let her retreat from the conversation with nothing resolved. “But how happy would they be?”

“You are about to marry an omega who has lived out in that great wild world and bring him into the safety of your home.” Colleen went back on the offensive. “What more proof do you need that safe equals happy?”

“First of all, you’re generalizing.” For a beta with a career in law enforcement to have a child present as omega must have been a uniquely stressful situation for her, and Hunk was trying to remain sympathetic, but damn. “Second of all, he’s marrying me in spite of conventional wisdom, not because of it.” Keith kept Hunk on his toes in the most delightful (and okay sometimes restive) ways, but if there was anything Hunk was sure of, it was that Keith wanted his company, not a presumption of protection.

Even though Hunk would give it in a heartbeat whenever he asked.

“Once the shield of innocence is ripped away it can’t just be put back.” Colleen remained unconvinced. “I’m not going to lose my son over something preventable.”

“Danger can find people anywhere. Don’t you think it’s safer for him to be prepared for what’s out there?” Although Hunk thought Matt was already pretty well aware of what was out there, he knew pointing that out to Matt’s mom might not be the wisest move right that minute because she appeared to be in quite the mood. “I feel better knowing that Keith can take care of himself.” That was the plain, unvarnished truth.

“Believe me, I know I can’t stop him from wanting to explore.” Colleen’s shoulders slumped. “He’ll push back on any attempt to pen him in.” She met eyes with Hunk. “But he can’t stop me from looking out for him.”

Hunk thought she might still be missing the point. “You can’t control what other people decide to do.”

“No,” Colleen acknowledged, “but there’s plenty I can do to control other people’s access to my son.”

Well now. Cards were being laid on the table. “Are you suggesting that your son shouldn’t be friends with my fiancé?”

It was a rhetorical question. Hunk knew that if Keith wanted to be friends with someone, nobody and nothing was going to stop him. He just wanted to know if she really thought she could get away with making such a demand. 

“I’m concerned, not crazy. If I tried to deliver an ultimatum like that, Matt would probably move into an omega hostel just to prove a point.” Colleen sighed. “I’m merely suggesting that they remain friendly in safer environments than where they went last night.”

“Where they went last night would have been a safer environment if the place had a more competent landlord.” It had been preying on Hunk’s mind ever since he first saw the place and realized that people actually lived there.

Colleen frowned. “You might find this hard to believe, but as far as omega hostel custodians go, Morvok is fairly benign.”

“Are you kidding me?” She was right, Hunk couldn’t believe it. “If that place isn’t riddled with code violations I’ll eat my tie!”

Colleen’s lips quirked a humorless smile. “I trust you’re right about the code violations,” she said, “but he’s not interested in exploiting his charges for more than money, and not a terribly exorbitant amount of money at that. He won’t win any public service awards, but when it comes to proprietors of subsidized adult omega housing he’s hardly the worst, unfortunately.” 

“What seems like chump change to us might be exorbitant to them,” Hunk said distractedly. He was still trying to wrap his head around the notion that there were omega hostels out there with worse landlords than Morvok. 

What kind of world were they living in when such little care was taken for the most vulnerable members of society?

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
By the time Danko-sensei emerged from her office with Kuro, other staff members had begun trickling in to prepare for the Halloween party. A Sailor Moon and an Alice in Wonderland made polite small talk with Shiro and Keith as they put together an elaborate trick or treat candy station. Shiro was surprised because he’d thought the bowl on the receptionist’s desk was the candy station, but that was just the preview. Meanwhile, a Batman was setting up Halloween games with the assistance of Mario and Luigi while a Spiderman toted haunted house props to a room somewhere farther inside the school. 

｢It is my pleasure to tell you that Shirogane-kun is an excellent candidate for the upper secondary school equivalency certificate. If he begins studying with a tutor now, he will surely receive very high scores when he takes the exams after his coming of age.｣

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. ｢This is good news indeed. Thank you for your kind assistance today, Danko-sensei. Kuro-kun, what say you?｣

｢Thank you for taking the trouble to help me, Sensei.｣ Kuro bowed. ｢I promise that I will do my very best!｣

They left the school together in high spirits. As they walked out to where the Sequoia was parked at a meter, Keith took out his phone to read some messages that had come in while they’d been waiting. 

“Hey guys? Looks like we can skip the department store since Lance and Haruka went over there already and picked up all of our clothes, but can we make a stop to pick up the rehearsal dinner favors? It’s real close by, and Mom and Akane got held up doing other errands so neither of them can get there before the gift shop closes.”

“I’ll take you anywhere you need to go,” Shiro promised, and was gifted with a smile that made him feel like a superhero.

Keith directed Shiro to a nearby parking garage, where he and Kuro traded side-eyes and snickers while Shiro tried valiantly to maintain a straight face. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know about the prank. The three of them strolled into a shopping district decorated in electric tōrō, red and white chōchin, and lots and lots of pumpkins. Some of their fellow shoppers were in costume, and some of those costumed shoppers were children with trick or treat bags.

“What are they doing?” Kuro asked curiously as they observed children being escorted into stores and coming back out with steadily increasing amounts of candy in their bags.

“They’re trick or treating,” Keith told him, and then briefly explained the custom. 

“The shop owners are not inconvenienced by this?” Kuro asked.

Keith shrugged. “It gets their parents into the shops, they might see something they like and come back later and buy it.”

Kuro sighed wistfully. “I should have worn the yūrei costume today.”

Then both he and Keith got ‘holy shit’ expressions on their faces as they realized in the same instant that they might have let something slip about that first stag night caper. It occurred to Shiro that his own reaction to the second stag night caper might be influencing their reluctance to tell him about the first one, and he felt a pang of regret.

“How about we pick up some Halloween candy as long as we’re here?” he suggested, and watched them both breathe sighs of relief. “We can get enough to pass around at the rehearsal.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Keith agreed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“So what do you think?”

Akane stood in the workplace of her new beau, which was owned by her cousin’s future father-in-law. The odors of oil and solvent were very familiar to her nose, even comfortable, though the current context was not her usual scene. Jiro stood beside her, his leathery scent mixing with the machine smells in a very appealing way. Jin stood before her, wiping his hands off with a rag. He was the one who had spoken.

“I think he’s gonna love it,” Akane replied honestly.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Curtis snuggled with Adam on the walnut-framed sofa in his own living room, with Laika flopped across their feet like a heavy throw blanket. The humans on the sofa were both trying to contain their laughter. Even with all of his aching limbs and a property damage claim still hanging over his head, Curtis could hardly believe his amazing good luck.

“Quiet, you!” Great Uncle Ubal, who was acting as Adam’s chaperone and driver this evening, had taken over the rattan lounge chair and also the remote control. “The madman could lurk out of the shadows at any minute and you schmendricks will miss it from your chortling!”

That would be a shame, because the homicidal tramp was the only thing scary about the pre-code era horror movie that Ubal had found for them to stream for Halloween. Well, maybe the incredible naivete of the heroine’s family in not recognizing that her golden boy fiancé was committing scientific misconduct right under their noses was a little bit scarier. How could they let that guy talk them into burying him in the backyard and not realize he was up to no good? If his revivification serum really worked, then they wouldn’t need to bury him in a specially made coffin to prove it.

Adam shifted in Curtis’s arms in the most diverting way. He smiled at Curtis, fluttered his dark lashes and asked archly, “Are my eyes like dew drops, ace?” It was a line being passed back and forth between the movie’s daffy heroine and the fast-talking reporter who kept trying to woo her away from the shady golden boy.

Ever the wise-ass, this one. Curtis looked into Adam’s laughing eyes, crystalline green with flecks of gold, and decided he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You know what?” Curtis held him close. “They really are.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Matt opened the door wearing a red plaid flannel shirt with jeans and a leather jacket, his hair worn loose around his shoulders and a bowl of candy held ready in his hands.

“Don’t hog the Skittles,” he said.

“I’m here for dinner, not trick or treat,” Colleen replied.

“My mistake.” Matt stepped aside to let her in. “I thought you were dressed as Endora.”

“Funny.” Green eye shadow was having a moment, damn it. If she couldn’t go a little wild with her eye makeup while officially off duty, when could she? “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Waiting for my TARDIS,” Matt said as he shut the door behind her. “Your partner in crime isn’t here right now.”

“He’s picking up our takeout order.”

“Of course he is,” Matt grumbled, slinging the candy bowl down on the living room ottoman and veering into the kitchen. The living room TV was paused on a _Dr. Who_ episode, one of the ones with the Daleks. Colleen followed her son into the kitchen in time to see him take a pot off the stove and pour the steaming water down the sink.

“Oh, honey.” Colleen had talked Ryan out of warning Matt about this visit, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Matt might actually start making dinner this early in the evening. “I’m sorry.”

“It was just going to be mac and cheese, I hadn’t even opened the box yet so don’t worry about it.” Matt put the cardboard box back in the cupboard and took out a bottle of red table wine. “Want some? I’m having some.”

“Yeah, sure.” She accepted the jelly glass he handed her, and held it out for a pour. “Did you get many trick or treaters this afternoon?”

Matt shook his head as he poured his own glass. “Not many. We were supposed to be out of town, and all of our neighbors were aware of that. There wasn’t enough time to put up decorations, so I’ve only been getting the trick or treaters who are wandering without a plan.”

Matt and Ryan lived in a privatized suburb full of tract houses rented out to service members, with strict regulations about what kind of exterior decor could be placed, where, and for how long. They’d had to get a special dispensation just to plant the hydrangeas Sam had given them. Colleen thought of how Sam delighted in decorating their own house for Halloween with spooky animatronics and yards of fake cobwebs, and how Matt had used to love helping him. Ryan was three years into a ten year military commitment, so he and Matt had decided to wait before buying a home. It would be some time before Matt had the opportunity to emulate his father’s gung-ho holiday decorating traditions.

“I’m a little surprised you weren’t watching something gory when I came in,” Colleen said. She remembered well how Matt and Pidge used to hole up in the bonus room after trick or treating and commence a watch-a-thon of horror movies, trying to outdo each other for scariest flick. Screams and screeching violins would carry down the hall long into the night.

“I’ve had a few little kids knock on my door today,” Matt replied. “I noticed the TV can be heard easily from the front porch. I didn’t want to watch something that might give them nightmares.” He drank his wine. 

“With that kind of foresight you’ll make a great mother,” Colleen said, and watched her son snort some wine down the wrong pipe.

“Why are you in such a hurry to put a bun in my oven!” Matt ripped a paper towel off the roll on the counter to clean up the little bit of wine he’d spat out.

“I’m just making an observation.” Colleen took a drink from her own cup. Northern Cali red blend. Very nice.

“Yeah? Well maybe I just didn’t want to give little children a sleepless night like Dad did that one time, and that’s all it was.”

The one and only time Sam had invited himself to his children’s Halloween watch-a-thon, his contribution had been a DVD release of _The Haunting_ , the 1963 version. The kids had seen from the jacket blurb that it was a black and white psychological horror film and teased Sam for being such a dad. Before the night was over they’d both invaded their parents’ bedroom and remained wide awake until morning. Far from a little child, Matt had been in high school at the time (whether Pidge had qualified as a little child or not was debatable). Sam had taken mercy on them and never subjected them to his taste in horror films again.

They were distracted from their conversation by the sound of the front door opening, and shortly afterward Ryan Kinkade strode past the living room toward the kitchen carrying a pizza box emitting the most wonderful smells of basil and cheese. Even with the bandaged ear, he somehow made a button-down and dark rinse jeans, neither of which had seen the recent touch of an iron, look as dignified as a freshly-pressed suit. The military bearing was only part of it. The rest was just intrinsically Ryan.

He smiled in undisguised relief when he saw his spouse and mother-in-law standing there sharing a drink. “I brought margherita,” he said, gesturing to the pizza box.

“Great!” Matt lifted the bottle of wine off the counter. “Bring her ass on over here and let’s get lit!”

Colleen frowned after him as he flounced off into the dining room. Her son was still feeling rebellious, it seemed. She turned to her son-in-law and caught his look of dismay.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “we’ll fix this. Besides, he’s hardly going to get drunk enough to take a flit on a belly full of pizza with the bottle being split between two other people.”

Ryan handed her the pizza box and opened a cupboard full of large coffee mugs and tall glasses. “I’m going to improve on those odds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're fast approaching the last arc of this fic and I'm starting to be in my feelings about it a little bit.


	17. Everlasting Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rehearsal happens, followed by the rehearsal dinner. Colleen learns why it's a bad idea to meddle in other people's marriages. Pidge ponders fashion choices. On Halloween night, everybody dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the reads, kudos and comments! Shout outs to luminiferousaether, PyroInfinite, SinisterChaos and Inoshi!
> 
> With Matt's costume, I was thinking he'd need something that you could cobble together out of clothes in your closet, since he had no time to prepare, and he has long reddish hair. Voila: Amy Pond costume. But I like the Sam Winchester idea, wish I'd thought of it now.

  
Ordinarily, hotel policy wouldn’t allow for guests to enter a room they’d reserved until the clock started ticking on that reservation, but in this case there were no other ballroom reservations immediately preceding the wedding. Consequently, various teams would have already been in there if they’d still been preparing for Lubos, so clearing the use of the space for a forty minute rehearsal was no big deal. Especially since Hunk only had to clear it with himself. Sometimes it was good to be king.

Hunk strolled through the loggia into the pre-function space known as the Wintergarden, which was where cocktail hour was going to be held. The velvet drapes lining the boundary between the Wintergarden and the ballroom were mounted and currently held open with tie-backs, ready to shield the ballroom from prying eyes with the drop of a tasseled cord when the staff would perform the magic trick of turning an auditorium into a dining room with a dance floor. The very faint sound of music and laughter could be heard coming from the function room above, where a Halloween party was in full swing. There was another wedding slated for the rooms above the ballroom for the following day, but it was scheduled for an hour when Hunk and Keith’s reception dinner should be getting underway, so he didn’t anticipate any noise interference for the actual ceremony.

The gripper pad for the carpet runner was already in place over the steps from the Wintergarden into the ballroom and up to the risers which had been set up in front of the stage. Hunk descended those steps to the lower level where Marvin and Hutch were busy setting out gold painted Chiavari chairs with burgundy seat cushions. Somebody had been up on a ladder enhancing the ballroom’s enormous crystal chandelier with gold paper lanterns, and swagging with gold and burgundy drapery. Downstage, a giant burgundy heart that had been intended as a focal point for the keynote speaker was now going to become the wedding arch with the eventual addition of some flower garlands. Lubos had gone a little nuts with the burgundy and gold to illustrate his event’s theme, but luckily it went well with the venue’s navy and gold carpeting and the pale yellow walls with golden glazed crown moulding.

“Hey fellas,” Hunk called, “this is looking great!” If they’d had more time and resources to plan this out themselves, he imagined that he and Keith would have probably picked a color scheme with more matte reds and yellows and less glitter and jewel tones, but Hunk personally thought the connection to Keith’s family name made for an unexpected way to honor his late father, so all the gold turned into a nice happy accident. Hopefully it wouldn’t clash with the orange that would be worn by most of the wedding party.

Marvin and Hutch looked up from their task with happy smiles. “These chairs will work great for the dining setup too,” Hutch agreed, “but you haven’t seen the best part yet!”

“Oh yeah?” Hunk approached them as Marvin jumped up on the stage and ducked behind the navy blue traveler curtains, which had been partially opened for setting up the heart-shaped arch. “What’s that?”

“The thrones!” Marvin’s voice echoed from behind the curtains, which began to draw back as he pulled on the operating line. Revealed stage right were two gold-painted lion throne chairs. The arms and legs were molded into the shapes of roaring lions, and the burgundy seat upholstery had the rumply luster of velour.

“What in the world,” was all Hunk could bring himself to say.

Nadia Rizavi was suddenly there patting his shoulder. She must have prowled up beside him while he was transfixed by the sight of the garish lion thrones.

“They were part of the chair rental,” Nadia explained. “They were supposed to be so Lubos and his keynote speaker could sit down on stage, but we thought they’d be cool for you and Keith to use at the sweetheart table!”

Sometimes being king was more spectacle than spectacular.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Matt and Ryan had commenced a war of attrition on the wine, with Matt tossing his jelly glass back as if it held cherry soda. However, Ryan had given himself a volume advantage in that his sixteen ounce coffee mug with a dancing mushroom on the front of it saying ‘I’m a fungi’ could hold a lot more wine than the jelly glass. Neither of them had eaten more than two slices of the pizza, both too busy trying to out-drink the other one. Colleen had to stop at one glass because she was driving later, and subsequently wound up eating more than her share of the pizza.

She’d come over here fancying herself a mediator, but these two might need a referee if they kept up at the rate they were going. Then Colleen would need an antacid and a nap.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The Halloween candy favors were a hit, giving the informal meeting in the ballroom a festive atmosphere that was also enhanced by the arrival of their officiant for this part of the wedding day’s planned festivities. Doing the honors for the ballroom ceremony was a justice of the peace; an alpha Garrett family cousin in his fit sixties who happened to be a retired traffic court judge. The Honorable Gyrgan Garrett stood as living proof that the tall, dark, handsome and gregarious genes ran along several different branches of Hunk’s family tree. At least, those were Keith’s totally impartial thoughts on the matter. Everybody had changed into semi-formal attire for the dinner they’d be attending afterward, and man did Hunk look choice in a cocktail suit. 

“My dear ones,” Gyrgan said, with one long arm around Hunk’s shoulders and the other around Keith’s, “I have officiated many a wedding, and never yet have I witnessed groomsmen walking down the aisle in perfect order unless escorted by a bridesmaid.”

This observation was bolstered by a couple of quick run-throughs during which the groomsmen had proven they had a knack for dancing like nobody was watching or walking like nobody was waiting. They’d already timed the walk down the aisle to about eighteen seconds at a normal walking pace, but the walking pace was turning out to be the sticking point. While Shay made it to the altar in good time and hit her mark with no missteps, Jiro ambled forth at a surprisingly slow clip for such a tall guy, and Gorou kept trying to talk them into doing a dance processional and sweeping young Mana along with him into his goofy shamble down the aisle. Keith had worked too hard on his own dance surprise to let it be upstaged before the reception. On a brighter note, they had the wonderful surprise of processional music recorded by their own friends to practice with. 

Speaking of friends, though.

“Two of my attendants are married,” Keith reminded Gyrgan, “and if Kuro walks down the aisle holding a stranger’s hand, I can’t be held responsible for what either Pidge or his mother do in response to the sight of that.”

“Aww.” Gorou made eyes in the direction of a highly skeptical Kuro. “I’m not a stranger.”

“And I’m not kidding, Gorou.” Within ten minutes of being in his company Keith had decided this guy was harmless to others but a potential hazard to himself. “I don’t know which of them is more terrifying, Pidge or Kuro’s mom.”

Kuro smiled beatifically, probably daydreaming about the prospect of Pidge roaring to his rescue. Keith exchanged glances with Lance, who was standing across from them with his alpha’s arm around him (that arm belonging to Keith’s other cousin who had volunteered to walk his mother to her seat, and Keith was still trying to wrap his head around that whole deal). They were going to need to take Kuro aside at some point to touch base about his swiftly changing priorities, just to make sure he felt clear on the whole thing. He was just young and sheltered enough that he might not know how to handle the rush that a compatible alpha’s pheromones could bring.

“It’s Kuro’s mother,” was Hunk’s opinion about who was more terrifying, and Shiro nodded vigorously in agreement.

Keith suspected if the right button was pushed it was actually Pidge, but Kuro’s mom might have already flattened Gorou by the time she got worked up enough to prove it.

“You could just do what I did when I married your mother, and have the groomsmen follow you out from the side,” Jin suggested to Hunk. “That way the bridal party can take a little more time for the guests to ooh and aah over them.”

Hunk looked over his and Gyrgan’s shoulders at the stage wings. “Logistically, that could work.”

So they tried it again. This new configuration had Shay taking the lead of the groomsmen instead of bringing up the rear, so the rest all followed her into place like ducklings.

“Excellent!” Gyrgan looked as happy as a bull in a spring meadow. “This will turn out beautifully!”

Looking up at the stage where his groom stood waiting, Keith was inclined to agree.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Being the only sober person at a drinking party could be the opposite of fun. Add in two people determined to trot out every domestic disagreement of their entire history together, and Colleen was sorely tempted to run to the kitchen for the rum cream she’d spotted in the fridge when Ryan had opened it for the cans of Cactus Cooler. Cans which currently sat unopened on the table. The whole frigging bottle of wine had already been dispatched. Most of it not by her.

“You used my bamboo washcloths to clean the bathtub drain!” Matt was practically in tears about it.

“It’s your hair that keeps clogging the drain,” Ryan insisted, “therefore it should be your washcloths that go to clearing it out.”

Matt gasped dramatically and clutched the hair hanging over his shoulders. “You said you love my long hair!”

Ryan folded his arms. “I don’t love cleaning your long hair out of the drain.”

“Well maybe I should just cut if all off then!” Matt then rose from the table and staggered off to presumably find some scissors.

“No!” Ryan tottered to his feet to weave in pursuit. “Don’t cut it all off! Matthew, come back here!”

Colleen found herself sitting alone at the table, with an empty wine bottle, three lukewarm cans of soda, and one last slice of pizza. Stumbling noises and low curses carried over from the vicinity of the stairs as one drunk person tried to navigate them quickly enough to avoid the second drunk person teetering up after him. Sighing, Colleen popped the top on her Cactus Cooler and contemplated the pizza. Should she be that guy who takes the last piece without asking? She sidestepped the ethical conundrum by calling her husband.

_“Carina,”_ he sighed once he’d heard the whole sordid tale, _“I did warn you that you were running the risk of becoming over-involved in their marriage.”_

Colleen frowned, because he had, and damn it to heck, he had been right. “Is it so terrible to just want to see with my own eyes that they’re doing okay?”

_“Did you ever like it when my mamma did the same thing?”_

Caterina Holt was a force of nature. Back when Sam and Colleen were just married, she’d frequently sweep into their Dogpatch condo like the Spring wind to catch Colleen unawares and often before she’d had a chance to pick up around the place. The unannounced social calls hadn’t stopped until Matthew had been on the way. Well on the way. In fact, Colleen had a sneaking suspicion that Nonna Sofia had been somehow involved in the cessation of surprise visits.

“No.” So that was one difficult question answered. “You’re saying I should just polish off this pizza and then clear out?” It was sitting right there, they probably wouldn’t even notice.

_“Cara mia, don’t be that guy who eats the last piece while nobody's looking.”_

Two difficult questions answered.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Technically Hunk was not the boss of anyone in the Michelin-starred restaurant hosted on hotel property. However, he did enjoy a cordial working relationship with that restaurant’s management, who had responded to his request for a large reservation by putting together a long table overlooking Rodeo Drive in a semi-private tier that was slightly elevated from the main dining room. This was not the restaurant’s most formal or most private dining area – this being Halloween night, their private dining room was most likely already spoken for by someone with a lot more local clout than Hunk had to command. It was more than he’d hoped for though, and he’d never say so but he personally found the portraits in the private dining room to possess a touch of the uncanny, so this view was preferable. He watched as one alpha after another attached to the wedding party quietly sidled up to the restaurant’s maître d’ Plachu to speak lowly in his ear, no doubt trying to take responsibility for the check.

From Plachu’s smirtle and the wide eyes in response to whatever he said in reply, those guests were probably just discovering that this dinner was already paid for. It was well worth the expense in Hunk’s estimation, but if those alphas wanted to throw in on any extra indulgences then he would signal to Plachu or their waiter that this was fine. If they wanted to help pad out the tip at the end of the night that was even better than fine. Hunk pulled out Keith’s chair at the table, which was elegantly set in tuxedo black. The lights of candles on the table and street lights from outside softened the angles of Keith’s face and lit sparks in his eyes.

Keith smiled. “Thanks, you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hunk kissed his cheek and took his own seat next to him at the table. 

The soft strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D and the excited chatter of the party of twenty-one washed over the table as Chulatt the busboy began filling their water glasses and setting out the Parmesan straws and hard rolls. Hunk had prearranged for four bottles of Pinot Noir to be decanted at the table to start things off, which the sommelier Chuchule proceeded to do while their waiter Platt went over the evening’s planned menu. There hadn’t been time to reserve the table d’hôte menu this restaurant usually offered for formal events. Fortunately Hunk had a working knowledge of the culinary proclivities of every single person at this table, with some helpful input from Keith. Thanks to that and Hunk’s friendliness with the restaurant’s management team, they’d been amenable to putting together an order for a five course meal that wouldn’t overextend the kitchen’s resources yet still had some wiggle room for people to personalize with sauce and topping choices.

After being reassured that the menu was enthusiastically embraced by everyone, Chulatt returned to the table with pots of hot tea while Platt returned to the kitchen to retrieve the soup course of oxtail consommé. 

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Colleen had driven over sixty miles on a single charge and the Tesla was still going strong, she was honestly impressed. If she hadn’t just spent most of her disposable income on plane tickets and hotel rooms she’d take a side trip into the Hollywood Hills and really give it a thorough test drive. Maybe she could plan that joyride for when she paid her children another visit on Pidge’s birthday. Her trusty old Camry would surely hold out that long.

In the meantime, she was at a discount department store in Torrance getting ready to spend a little bit more, because she’d invited herself to a wedding that she didn’t have a present for, and it was getting a little late for boutique stores to still be open. Also, all she’d packed were travel clothes and a couple of work outfits. Since her work sometimes involved running after people, those outfits weren’t really appropriate for an indoor wedding. Or so deemed her daughter, who was suddenly a fashionista now that she was courting an omega who was going to be in this wedding.

“Honey, are you sure it’s black tie optional?” That seemed a little on the formal side for an afternoon wedding.

_“Mom! Yes, it’s in a ballroom, so you need a dress.”_ Pidge insisted on virtually accompanying her mother on this trip via cell phone to make sure she didn’t pick something that clashed with whatever Pidge was wearing.

“Fine.” 

Colleen stalked down the aisles of rollbacks. This store didn’t seem to have much in the way of dresses that weren’t mini-dresses or maternity dresses. If she’d thought there was a hope in hell she could fit into anything Pidge owned, she’d have gone over to her place after leaving her son’s and saved her present-finding mission for the morning. She probably could have fit into one of Matt’s chic jumpsuits, but after cleaning up the dinner dishes and putting away the two unopened sodas and the leftover slice of pizza, she’d gone to the bottom of the stairs and heard earnest murmurings drifting from above, and decided that maybe she’d better not intrude on that moment.

“Oh! I see an LBD.” It looked like the last one on its rack. A Little Black Dress went with everything.

_“Mom, you’re not supposed to wear black at a wedding.”_

“That’s one of the most arbitrary fashion rules ever. If men and alphas are encouraged to wear black at a wedding, what’s wrong with anybody else wearing it?”

Just before Colleen reached the rack, the dress was snatched away by a pale young woman with long black hair who called out, “Sorry, I need it to finish my sexy Cruella de Vil costume!” The girl hustled off toward the checkout with the dress in one hand and an assortment of red costume jewelry in the other.

“You do realize that Cruella de Vil is supposed to be evil incarnate!” Colleen was a dog person through and through. There were days she missed Bae Bae just as much as her kids. “Making a coat out of puppies is not sexy!”

_“You tell her, Mom! But seriously, you need to find something in the orange family.”_

With her hair color and rosy complexion? “Why?”

_“Because Kuro is wearing orange, and therefore I am going to wear it as well, so we don’t look weird on the dance floor.”_

“Isn’t there some etiquette rule that you’re supposed to avoid being too matchy with the bridesmaids if you’re not in the wedding party?” Colleen continued her quest through the maze of clothes racks.

_“Now who’s being arbitrary about fashion?”_

“Okay, but if anybody asks me to hold a bouquet, I’m handing it to you.” She saw a guy in a blue vest sorting through the clearance rack. “Hey, you.” He looked up, surprise crossing his bearded face that anyone had actually taken notice of him. “Find me something in orange that doesn’t make me look like a glowing Jack O’Lantern.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“What’s our dress code, babe?” Keith sat back to give Chulatt room to clear away his soup bowl as Platt arrived with their appetizers of savory gougère. “People keep asking me and I’ve been telling them to dress as nice as they want, but they don’t seem super comfortable with that answer.”

Around the table, guests who were not in the wedding party paused in their conversations to listen for Hunk’s reply. The invitations had said ‘festive attire’ which represented a rather broad category.

“Technically it’s supposed to be semi-formal,” Hunk said, “because of the time of day and the venue, but I don’t want anybody to feel like they can’t come if they don’t have the duds. I’m not gonna stop anybody at the door if all they have to wear is their nicest jeans, you know what I mean?”

“Pidge asked me if she would have to acquire a black tie, and I told her that if she did not have a black tie she should not worry,” Kuro piped up down the table. “That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” Keith reassured him.

“Everybody’s welcome, just come ready to celebrate,” Hunk added, as several wedding guests breathed sighs of relief that they wouldn’t be over or under-dressed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You’re beautiful to me no matter what your hair looks like.” Ryan cuddled Matt against him as they sat together on the floor of the upstairs guest bathroom. Matt cuddled a large hank of hair to his chest. “We agreed to a future with rocking chairs on the porch surrounded by grandchildren. Grey hair tends to be a prerequisite for that.”

Matt sniffled a laugh. “At least you won’t have to clean as much of my hair out of the drain now.”

“I’ll clean your hair out of the drain until we’re both stooped from age if you’ll let me.” Ryan sincerely regretted his smart remarks in that regard. He sat back and tucked a ragged lock of hair behind Matt’s ear. He’d managed to hack roughly half of it off just above his shoulders before Ryan got the scissors away from him. It would probably wind up looking much as it had when they’d first met, once the length was evened up.

“Yeah...” Matt bit his lip, clutching the hair. “I think I want to take that job back away from you. It’s not really fair to expect you to clean up a mess that I made.” 

Ryan knew they weren’t just talking about the hair now. “You’re not to blame if other people choose to react poorly to an action that was innocent on your part.” He’d had plenty of hours to cogitate over the whole farce, and he’d realized that keeping Matt in a bubble would only amount to taking something away from him, while the intentions of those who would do him harm went unchallenged.

Matt glanced up through copper-bright eyelashes. “What would you think about me taking a job outside the house?”

“You don’t have to do that,” came out of Ryan’s mouth before he’d even thought through the question.

“I know I don’t have to,” Matt said earnestly, “but I think I need to. I have a bachelor’s in Computer Science from Berkeley and all I’ve been using it for is testing other people’s apps.”

Matt was a freelance QA analyst who telecommuted from the flex room they’d set up as a home office. He had a stellar reputation as a software tester, but also stiff competition in his niche of testing apps designed especially for omegas to use. The fiercest of his competitors were capable of working onsite whenever the client requested it, but that wasn’t Matt’s only concern and they both knew it. Matt didn’t want to just test apps. He wanted to learn how to develop them from the ground up, which meant he’d need to join a team to acquire hands-on experience.

“We’d need another car,” Ryan said, and felt Matt’s energy brighten and wished he could complete the circuit. Seven more years, and then he would finally be free to let his mate to put his mark on him.

"That’s not a no,” Matt said. 

Ryan looked deep into hopeful amber eyes, knowing that his own emotions were more opaque to Matt than Matt’s were to him, and not enjoying that knowledge. He thought of all the other challenges Matt would face well beyond acquiring a reliable car: hiring managers rejecting his application, coworkers belittling his credentials, even unwanted advances, all because of his secondary gender. As much as he wanted to prevent the bitter touch of prejudice from reaching his omega, Ryan also realized that Matt knew all of this already and he still had the spirit to want to strive.

He deserved to be allowed to strive.

“It’s definitely not a no,” Ryan agreed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lucky cat figurines were passed out to the wedding party as favors, to happy fanfare. The wait staff had cleared away the warm flaky gougères, followed by a cold course of crisp apple coleslaw, and now it was time for the main dish. Hunk’s dinner guests did not disappoint in their reactions as Platt, with assistance from Chulatt, brought out rib roasts, cooked sous vide and served au jus. The presentation was a showstopper; thankfully there had been enough time since the day Hunk had placed his order for the kitchen to turn out an herb-crusted majesty. Chuchule came around while the guests were still in an astonished uproar to decant Cabernet to accompany the entree.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_♬ A million voices talking to me, that all I need is love on repeat... love on repeat... ♬_

Beams of purple light shot through the haze in the club, drifting up, down and around in time to the music. Acxa’s hips rotated like a pendulum as the song built up towards the drop and Narti watched, hypnotized. That strappy ruched thing she was wearing was perfect for her: sexy but still classy, just like the lady herself. 

Narti had just thrown on some Lycra she usually wore to work out, knowing she had a good enough body to get in the door dressed like she was on her way to yoga class. They’d gotten their cheer on with fruit and field beers in the pub downstairs before heading up to the discotheque where they had literally danced the night away. Predawn hours had arrived and Narti still hadn’t told Acxa what she’d lured her out of the row house to tell her. She could’ve watched Acxa lose her mind to the music all night long.

Oh wait. She had in actual fact already done that. She’d just have to take Acxa out to breakfast afterwards and then tell her that they’d both been recruited into a sting operation. If she was busy stuffing her face when she found out then she might not be so quick to scold.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
When the dishes of baked Alaska were brought to the table, the guests joked in bonhomie about how they weren’t sure if they had any more room to put it. Then Platt proceeded to ladle warm rum over each mound of meringue before setting it aflame with a culinary torch, and the excited commotion which had been quelled by the first bites of prime rib began anew.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Pidge checked out her reflection in the mirrored closet door of her bedroom, turning this way and that to get the full picture. That Coran guy had promised her this tux was in a shade of orange that would look good when she was standing next to Kuro. “Analogous” was what he’d called it. Pidge called it red-orange, like a tiger’s fur. She wouldn’t have picked any shade of orange for herself, but she had to admit she kind of liked this one. 

She was still on the fence about the tuxedo blouse, though. It was cream-colored and covered in ruffles, with an open placket collar extending rather far down her chest. With no buttons, the only way to close the collar would be with a brooch, which would take the shirt’s old-fashioned styling right over the top. But if she left the placket open and Kuro were to look down, say while they were slow dancing, then he would surely catch an eyeful of cleavage.

“Fortune favors the bold,” she reminded herself. She’d already been bold, putting a deposit on an item in Coran’s department when she didn’t even know if her opening gambit was going to be well-received. Might as well go all in. Dipping a toe in first had never been her style. Cannonball was more her thing.

Besides, she could always just wear the outfit without a bra. Her breasts couldn’t form much cleavage if they weren’t artificially smooshed up and in. Her mom liked to claim a bra was meant to lift and separate, but when the chesticles were naturally perky and spaced apart, all a bra really did was just force them closer together. Let the girls go loose, man.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
As predicted, the guests had taken advantage of Platt’s courtesy query of “Is there anything else I can bring for you” to shell out for coffee for lingering, rosé champagne for toasting, and macarons because someone had discovered that Keith had developed a taste for them and shared that information. That someone must have been Lance.

The distinctive ring of a glass being tapped brought Hunk out of his fond appreciation of Keith’s enjoyment of a chocolate meringue cookie. He looked down the table and saw his father standing up from his chair.

“If I could have your attention please? Thanks everybody. My name is Jin, and I’m Hunk’s dad, and I couldn’t be prouder of him, or happier about tomorrow. Keith has a strong mind and heart, and I can’t wait to welcome him into our family. I knew he was the one for Hunk when Jiro over there asked if he could borrow the bathroom at their place and Keith offered to draw him up a contract.” 

The guests giggled while Hunk resisted the mighty urge to face palm. Only his father would mention the bathroom while people were holding up glasses of bubbly that they were meant to drink in a minute. At least this champagne was pink instead of golden.

“This reminded me of the day I met Hunk’s mom,” Jin went on, and oh no he was going to tell _that_ story. Hunk caught Hina’s eye because she was seated right next to their father and therefore in a good position to stop him, but when he saw the sparkle there he remembered that she thought this story was as cute as their parents so there would be no help from that quarter.

“She ran into the shop where I was working telling me how she accidentally drank prune juice, and I asked her, how in the world can you accidentally drink prune juice– ”

“The can said it was refreshing, okay?” Alana always interrupted right at this point. “How was I supposed to know that was code for running to the restroom fast enough to make a breeze?”

Mom had never been very fluent at reading kanji, but Chichi was. The story would usually continue with Chichi razzing her over a picture of a plum that had been on the can, and Mom clapping back that it was a stylized picture that looked more like a peach than a plum. Thankfully on this night Chichi had romance on the brain and so he skipped ahead in their patter.

“I escorted this lovely young omega to our staff-only bathroom, and as I stood guard for her outside of the door I realized that I would like to do this for her again in the future. Maybe even forever. When she came back out I offered her my services as a full-time bathroom guard and she asked me if I had ever heard of stranger danger.”

Alana was starting to smile. “You were a stranger.”

“And yet you still ran into my service bay.” Jin looked down at her lovingly.

“You looked a lot nicer than the guy at the drive-thru place next door.”

“Good instincts on you.” Now Jin and Alana were smiling at each other like they were the only ones at the table.

“Right back atcha.”

Jin cleared his throat. “Where was I?” The guests laughed again. “Oh! Right, well, I like to think that both of our children inherited Alana’s great instincts.”

“As do I,” Alana agreed.

“That’s why I trust that Hunk and Keith are going to be great together.”

“Shinro, shimpu, banzai!” toasted Aunt Leia from across the table.

**“Banzai!”** The cheer went up and continued from all sides as glasses were tipped in honor of the couple.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shinji let himself into the suite, tired but happy. He’d had the opportunity to reconnect with several indie rock bands he’d worked with before when they’d toured in Japan, and he’d enjoyed the job as he usually did. He loved working with musicians, but he’d stayed at the festival site later than he’d intended. If he’d been traveling alone he would have made straight for his bed and worried about food in the morning. He was not traveling alone, so he stepped through the adjoining door to find out if Tatsuo would like any supper and there he made an intriguing discovery.

“Konbanwa.” Tatsuo sat up on the blue velvet chair where he’d apparently been dozing. He was wearing one of the resort’s fluffy robes over cotton pajamas. “I thought you might prefer a familiar end to the day. I did not mean to fall asleep.”

In the dining area past the couch, Shinji saw that the table had been set with domed dishes and a bottle of white wine that was just beginning to slide over sideways in a bucket of melting ice. Tatsuo had entreated someone to bring him anemone flowers, which he had arranged upright in a vase so that rays of white petals would shine out from any angle. It was an unexpectedly comforting sight.

“I appreciate you going to such trouble for me.”

Tatsuo rose from the chair with a sleepy stretch. “It is I who must thank you.”

Shinji dared to step near enough to catch the rising scent of peach blossoms. “Oh?”

Tatsuo smiled at him with eyes shining like the surface of a lake under moonlight. “You have reminded me that I must wake again to life if I do not wish for it to fade away from me like a daydream.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance, Kuro and Haruka were gathered in the penthouse’s living room to wrap sugar-coated almonds in ribbons and tulle; five almonds per bomboniere. Krolia had brought the supplies with her to the rehearsal, explaining it was traditional in her grandmother’s family for the bridal party to wrap them for the wedding guests. Since there were going to be way too many guests at this wedding for the bridal party to be expected to wrap all of the sugared almond favors and still have time to do other things on their agenda, they would only be doing the ones for the head table and VIP tables, and the hotel staff would be handling the rest. Lance paid attention to what he was doing, not wanting the VIP tables to look at their favors and wonder why they got the sloppy ones. His tourist town experience was standing him in pretty good stead here, while Haruka and Kuro demonstrated that they too knew how to wrap with flair.

“The five elements are represented by the number of favors,” Haruka remarked as she set aside a freshly wrapped bomboniere. “It’s very auspicious.”

Lance was pretty sure the five confections represented health, wealth, fertility, longevity and happiness as he seemed to recall Mamá orchestrating something similar to this for Luis’s wedding, but if it was also elementally lucky then that was cool too. Shiro joined them in the living room carrying a bottle of soda pop that had been left over from their own rehearsal dinner, Kai right behind him with a bag of Halloween candy. They were honor bound not to assist the honor attendants with wrapping the favors, but they had decided to keep them company.

“Who’s up for a monster movie in honor of Halloween?” Shiro suggested as he distributed the soft drink in tumblers with ice from the suite’s bar.

“Oo, me,” Lance said, daring to look up from tying off a ribbon.

“Me too!” Kuro bounced on the couch.

“Remember Kuro-san you have to be able to sleep tonight,” Haruka pointed, not unkindly. “We must all be at our very best tomorrow.”

“I won’t be too scared to go to sleep,” Kuro promised.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_“Hello. Vould you like to have a roll in ze hay? It’s fun!”_

Hunk and Keith cuddled on the couch sharing a bowl of popcorn between them as the bombshell on the television screen proceeded to literally roll in some hay. Later on they would retire to separate beds, not for any other reason this time except for that extra bit of luck. But for now, they enjoyed each other’s company while watching a movie together, and watching the windows in case of any late trick or treaters.

_“Roll, roll, roll in ze hay!”_

The young couple laughed together on the couch as the night continued to unfurl around them like a moonflower.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“I had no idea the very first _Godzilla_ was such a romantic movie.” Lance, who’d changed into cotton pajamas that should be easy to wiggle out of should the need arise, turned down the sheets on the bed in the master suite.

“That’s because most of the love story was cut out and replaced with Perry Mason in the version you probably saw.” Shiro slid into bed wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms that should also be easy to ease off of him, if such a desire should rear up.

“Of all the things to leave on the cutting room floor,” Lance tsked. He made a burlesque of stretching before getting into bed. His pajama top was very short, and the bottoms were very small. “L’amour is important too, you know.”

“C’mere.” Shiro opened up the sheets and beckoned. “I’ll show you all the parts you missed.”

“Oh, is that Godzilla in your pants then?”

Shiro responded to Lance’s tease by pulling him laughing into the tumbled sheets.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Keith was prone to lucid dreaming. In his dream he sneaked out of his old bedroom which was, conveniently for his purposes, located closest to the front door, because if a fire should happen Akira wanted to ensure his kid had as many potential exits as possible. They lived in a newer manufactured home (and oh, how he missed his dad warning him over and over not to buy one that was made before 1976) in an old park whose main redeeming feature was a stunning view of the Pacific ocean over the bluffs. In the daytime Keith couldn’t be bothered to climb down there where the tourists wandered like lost geese. But at sunset, the sky would sputter its last light like a banked flame, turning everything it touched into red gold, and he couldn’t resist it.

Keith’s mother had not lived in this home with them. They’d moved here after her disappearance, when it became clear that there would be no more searching and Akira could not take another day in their apartment near the 405 without her presence warming familiar spaces. One of Akira’s buddies who worked with him both in the Reserve and at the fire station had inherited a rent-controlled plot in the park, a property that he wanted to hang onto, but he was under pressure to remove its ancient uncertified trailer which had failed an inspection. Akira used Krolia’s SGLI settlement to purchase a new manufactured home and plop it on Zandee’s lot, and then sublet the lot from his friend. Zandee had given them a fair price to take the trailer off their hands after Akira died, money which Akane had put toward Keith’s Saturday school and other things that he’d needed.

This had been a lifesaver for them because Keith’s kinship foster care benefits could fluctuate wildly from month to month. But that had been later. For the now of the dream, Keith crept out of his room, past his dad’s home gym rig and the couches with the black wool slipcovers, toward the 4x4 entryway Dad dared to call a foyer. It had a porthole window which Dad would use like a toko by putting small flower arrangements on its ledge. When light flowed in it would cast feathery shadows on the hulking forms of the washer and dryer, which were out in clear view to anyone who entered the abode because this model of trailer clumped most of its water hookups right in the center of its boxy frame. 

The kitchen beyond that point was illuminated only by the dusk settling in through the opposite windows, as would be usual for this time of the evening in Keith’s memory. The floating floors they’d had in that place were inherently noisy to walk on, but Keith had long practice at sneaking through the rooms. He had his shoes in one hand as he padded silently over the jute carpet runners in his bare feet. For some reason he was in his old board shorts and t-shirt from when he was in middle school and they actually fit, even though his hands and feet were clearly of his adult body. He reached out to still the string of jingle bells that Dad liked to put around the front door knob for luck and a bit of added security.

“Keith.”

Keith paused. Akira had never stopped him from his evening jaunts in life, sometimes because he’d already left for a night shift, but more usually because he was out on the back porch nursing a beer and his own ruminations. Keith suspected that Akira knew he was sneaking out after dinner but didn’t want to interfere because he also knew just how Keith felt when he did it. They’d carried a lot of unspoken truths between them. The main thing giving Keith pause, though, was that Akira never showed up at this juncture of Keith’s dreams. 

“I did my homework already.” This was the excuse Keith had prepared in case he was ever caught. A plea he had never actually had to deploy.

The wry chuckle in response made an ache twinge deep in Keith’s chest.

“I know you did, son. I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” Keith turned toward the voice in the kitchen, and there he stood looking exactly as he had the very last time Keith had seen him.

His tired smile was framed by chin stubble. Dark hair in need of a trim and a comb spilled over the collar of his field jacket. He was still wearing an undershirt like it was a t-shirt, and carpenter jeans that had been washed and worn so many times that the hems were fraying. He’d been off duty when the emergency call came in. No time to even shave before leaving forever.

“So many years have passed,” Akira said. The half-light lent him a subtle glow. “You’re still so bright and bold no matter what life throws at you. I know your mom is as proud as I am.”

“You were right Dad.” Keith took a step toward his father. “She’s alive. You were right!”

Akira Kogane’s smile widened. “Still smart as hell, too.”

Another step forward. “I miss you so much, Dad.”

“I miss you too, Keith.” Suddenly, golden light seemed to be pouring in from everywhere. “I wish I could be there to raise a cup and walk you down the aisle in person, but I’ll be there for you in spirit. Believe that, son.”

“Dad!” Keith lunged forward through the brilliance. “I love you!”

“I love you too, Keith.”

The light lifted Keith up and carried him forward still, into his next dream.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance was prone to vivid dreaming. Varicolored neon signs lit a moonless night of the sort that made people instinctually move closer to the street, the better to stay away from the pockets of darkness. Lance put his head down as he tromped along close to the curb. Another pocket of darkness loomed ahead. An alley.

Blue latex paint over cement walls reflected the shine of the street lights. The metal gate that was supposed to block access to employee entrances stood wide open, as usual. Mingled scents of bodily fluids, cheap fortified wines, and the ashes of various types of smokes wafted from the gloom. No light made it past the gate, only shadows that seemed as if they could swallow whole anyone who dared trespass. Lance never took clients into that alley.

He stretched his stride to get by it as quickly as possible without flat out running; an established habit. He wanted past that alley with all due speed, but running would make him look like prey. He folded his usher’s coat closer around himself as gooseflesh broke out all over his body. From the depths of the alley, someone whimpered.

Lance’s steps slowed. He’d heard all sorts of noises coming out of that alley on previous walks to the boulevard: swearing and fighting, drunks relieving themselves, the mumble of a drug deal in progress. One time he’d even heard Corral turning a trick in there (and that’s when he’d known she was on a downward spiral but she wouldn’t listen to anyone, no not her). Never had he heard a sound of human misery so abject.

_“Help.”_

Lance stopped in front of the alley, cacophonous street noise at his back. Something in there smelled like new pennies.

_“Please.”_

A man’s voice, so sorrowful it resonated in Lance’s chest like a foundry bell.

“I’m coming.”

He couldn’t ignore a voice like that, even if the thought of walking alone into that grim space made him shiver with a chill at odds with the urban heat island effect. He stepped into the darkness, footsteps sounding a flat echo off the alley’s walls, and reached into his coat’s pocket for his flip phone. It didn’t have a flashlight app, but its home screen could still provide a glimmer of light. He advanced slowly between walls tagged with graffiti, a little glowing square held out in front of him. It seemed like he walked for a long time, though it surely must have only been seconds.

“Where are you?”

“I’m here.”

Lance’s heart lurched into his throat as he realized he was right on top of the guy. He aimed the flip phone’s screen down into a face he saw in the mirror daily, although Charles McClain’s face was bone white.

“Please listen, I’m not who they say.”

It sounded like it was taking enormous effort for Charles to find enough air to form the words. The smell of copper had intensified.

“Are you bleeding?” Lance knelt on the asphalt, his go-go boots protecting his knees from the rough texture but not from the strange cold that seemed to be seeping in from everywhere. 

He swept the little phone screen down Charles’s prone body. Charles’s hands clutched his chest on the left side, low on his rib cage. Someone must have aimed to stab him in the heart, either missed or been fended off, and hit a lung instead. Heartbeat stuttering, it occurred to Lance that the assailant could still be there with them in the dark. He aimed his phone’s screen in an arc around them but saw only the pressing murk.

“She’s gone.” A slippery hand grasped Lance’s arm. “I’m alone.”

Lance turned back to the man lying on the ground and saw, now that he’d taken one hand off of his wound, the blood stain growing on the dark turtleneck shirt he was wearing.

“You’re not alone,” Lance said. “I’m right here with you.” 

Lance raised his phone again to dial 911, but Charles’s grip on his arm, while slack, was also heavy. “You have to let go,” Lance said. “I need to call for help.” He was no medical expert, but he’d watched enough episodes of Grey’s Anatomy on Keith’s phone to feel certain that a punctured lung was not something that could be stabilized just by applying pressure to the wound site.

“S’too late.” Charles gasped for the words. “I’m done for.” Gasp, wheeze. “But I have to tell,” wheeze, “I have to tell you, Lance...”

He should make the man stop talking. It was obviously costing him greatly, but he was so desperate to tell him something that Lance felt his own chest pang in sympathy for each struggling breath. Maybe after Charles said whatever he had to say, he’d relax enough to let himself be taken to a hospital. Lance folded his hands over the wound and leaned closer.

“I’m listening. What is it you need to tell me?”

Under the copper scent of blood, Lance picked up a honeyed whiff of whiskey. This was not the vinegary scent of a night of drinking, but the buttery vanilla scent of a freshly opened bottle. It couldn’t be anything but the beta’s natural scent, and following close upon this observation came the absurd thought that whenever Charles McClain was with Lance’s mother they must have smelled like a hot toddy.

“I’m not a bad person.” Charles coughed weakly. “I was chasing a bad person.” He coughed again. Blood speckled his lips. “But he caught me instead. Lance, please believe me.” He clutched at Lance’s hands feebly. “You have to believe me.”

Standing tears in Charles’s eyes reflected light from the phone’s meager glow; dark blue and wide-spaced like Lance’s, but Charles’s limbal rings were fading whereas Lance’s were still quite prominent.

“I believe you.”

Charles offered him a bloodstained smile. “Thank you for listening to me.” His smile subsided. His hands went limp.

“No.” Lance cupped a cold cheek. “No, no, no. Don’t go! Stay here! Don’t go!”

_“Lance, I’m here.”_ The voice did not come from the body on the asphalt, but from the other side of some unknown boundary. _“I’m not going anywhere.”_

“Where are you? Don’t go!”

_“I’m_ here!” Suddenly, Lance was awake in Shiro’s arms. “Lance, honey, I’m right here. I think you’re having a nightmare.”

Shiro’s body was warm and the covers they’d heated up earlier were still close around them, but the cold from the dream was slow to fade.

“I was dreaming about my father.” Lance turned his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck, instinctively searching for his claim mark. “Shiro, he died all alone.”

Shiro made soothing noises as Lance’s tears fell like rain.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Just as his omega’s restless sleep had alerted him to awaken, so did Lance’s drift back into a calmer slumber allow Shiro to slip back into dreams. 

He was walking in Tatton Park with his mother. They strolled down the stone path towards the Japanese Garden’s tea house, which beckoned like a shoji lamp between the red leaves of acers, as the score from Act II of _Swan Lake_ drifted like an aural haze from the vicinity of the Mere. Lisa smiled warmly up at her only child, grey eyes flashing in dappled light. At some point Shiro had grown taller than her. What a strange and wondrous development that was.

She usually wore jeans and chunky sweaters whenever she took him on a wander across an island in another sea, but in this curious place and time she was wearing kurotomesode with a kaga-yūzen dyed scene of cranes in flight across a waterfall, and the Shirogane crest in shadow design showing on her chest and sleeves. Her hair, dense like the plumage of a black kite, was worn in the hime cut that Shiro remembered from childhood, with long forelocks hanging along either side of her face and the greater length of her hair hiding the fifth crest as it flowed down her back. It was quite similar to the way Haruka wore her hair, actually. With the benefit of an adult perspective Shiro could see that they even bore a passing resemblance to one another, which might explain why he let Haruka get away with bossing him around to the extent that he did.

“So you are married now.”

Spoken with a serene delivery, this was a customary manner for Lisa to address her son. No judgment, just an invitation to share with her. Or not. Shiro was free to respond with nothing more than an acknowledgment of what had already been stated, though he rarely took that offered retreat. He’d always enjoyed conversing with his mother.

“Kaa-san, his name is Lance. You would like him very much I think.”

Lisa smiled up at her son again, long bangs shifting like feathers. “If he possesses a soul that loves you Takashi, then I think I would love him for that if for no other reason.”

Shiro basked in his mother’s loving approval. “No need to guard the autumn eggplants?”

Lisa’s smile turned wistful. “We were not destined to navigate such a dilemma.”

Oh. That’s right. For a moment, Shiro had forgotten. How could he have forgotten something so important? 

They wound past the pond, approaching the low eaves of the tea house’s thatched roof. As they circled the perimeter of the small tea house, Shiro could see that the shoji doors were cracked open. Lisa stopped him and then surprised him with a hug, her tea-like perfume still achingly familiar after so long. She smelled like sazanka blossoms.

Lisa laid her cool hands on Shiro’s face. “You have grown into a man of honor. I am proud of you, and so– ” She paused. “I would ask of you to be patient and keep an open mind.”

“Of course I will, Kaa-san.” He would do anything she asked of him.

She smiled, eternally beautiful. “I will love you always.” She took his hand and led him to the barrel-shaped basin next to the stone lantern. “Wash your hands before you go in.”

Shiro followed his mother’s instructions. When he looked down to toe out of his shoes, he discovered on his adult feet the black trainers he had once begged her to buy him during one of their trips. They still fit him perfectly. How remarkable.

“You may enter.”

Shiro bowed as he bent to enter the tea house, his view of the tatami mats indicating that no other guests had preceded him. It would seem that he was to be the guest of honor. It would also seem that this tea house was larger on the inside than he would have guessed from the outside. He had been certain that it must be a three tatami room with a low ceiling, but it looked to actually be a four and a half tatami room like Ginga-tei. The Raku-ware on the shelves of the recessed mizuya area even resembled the tea bowls Shiro half-remembered from when he’d still been a full-time resident of his father’s estate.

He sat in seiza close to the tokonoma, taking in an impression of the haiku on the hanging scroll and the delicate pink camellia blossom in a ceramic hanaire vase. The theme appeared to be winter evening, despite that when Shiro had entered the tea house the garden had been bathed in autumn sunlight. Only the softer beams of moonlight flowed through the shoji screens now, the candles placed at intervals around the room emitting a brighter glow. The sunken hearth was already lit, providing some much-needed warmth to ward off the chill.

From without, the clear, high tone of a brass bell announced the arrival of the host. The figure of a wide-shouldered man appeared, hunkering into the tea house from the host’s entrance next to the mizuya. Shiro leaned forward in zarei as he greeted the host, and saw formal striped hakama in his peripheral vision as the host dropped into seiza in front of the hearth across from him.

“How are you, Takashi-san?” came the host’s returned greeting in a voice estranged yet familiar. The rich, subtly sweet scent of byakudan reached Shiro’s nose and then he realized that there was a reason this tea house looked so much like Ginga-tei. 

It was because this was Ginga-tei, or some manifestation of it.

“I beg your pardon, Otou-san,” Shiro replied as he raised himself back to straight-postured seiza so as to look his father in the face.

Ryu smiled wryly as if he had been expecting such a reaction from his elder son. His face was lined and his body wiry, but otherwise he looked as hale as he had in the months before his health began to deteriorate. His eyebrows were bushy and his color was good, though that latter may have been just the warming effect of the candlelight. He was wearing his hair in the business-man cut that he’d always favored, which was much like Shiro’s own except a little longer on the crown but with shorter bangs. It was also, much to Shiro’s private consternation, the exact same shade of silvery white as his own.

“It is I who must beg your pardon, Takashi-san,” Ryu said, “for it is polite to offer tea to an honored guest, but if I were to make tea then you should probably not drink it.”

“Then why are we meeting in a tea house?” Shiro demanded.

“Because your mother thought it would be best if we had this conversation in neutral territory.”

Lisa had asked Shiro to be patient and keep an open mind. Now he knew why.

“Why are we meeting at all?” was Shiro’s next question.

“Because the veil between realms is thinner in the time and place where you currently dwell,” came Ryu’s response, “and I would not waste this opportunity to offer my regrets to you for the predicament of losing your mother at so pivotal an age.”

“And my home,” Shiro reminded him. His mother might have a resilient enough heart to forgive without question, but Shiro wasn’t of a mind to let Ryu off the hook in exchange for what amounted to little more than a graceful demonstration of the verbal art of conciliation.

Besides, while Shiro had come to accept that the accident which took his mother away from him had not been a deliberate act of betrayal on Ryu’s part, he couldn’t find a reason to believe the same about the decision to send him away.

“I was hasty in my actions,” Ryu owned, and Shiro gave him a few points for not trying to lay all the blame at Tatsuo’s feet. “I should have permitted you to honor your mother’s memorial days with me. I feel remorse that I did not.”

“Why did you replace my mother?” The candles flickered and the wind outside the shoji screens sighed as Shiro’s childhood hurt could no longer be suppressed. “Why did you replace me?”

“No one could ever truly replace your mother.” Ryu frowned. “I was in emotional turmoil that I did not believe fit to share with a child. Then Tatsuo-san was there, and he was not a child. He was a balm. Perhaps I should not have rushed into unalterable actions with him either, especially considering Shinji-san– ” Ryu grimaced. The wind howled. “But I did, and Kuro-chan was a result for which I can feel no regret. He is not a replacement for you. He is his own person.”

Shiro dropped his stormy gaze to the tatami mats. It was quite a thing to have longed-for answers to old questions, yet continue to feel discontent. As much as it rankled that the old man still resisted fully acknowledging the emotional wreckage left in the wake of his decisions, Shiro could not help but to agree that his little brother was his own person and no cause for regret in and of himself.

“Takashi-san.” 

Shiro looked up to find his father observing him with a troubled expression.

“Have you any questions for me regarding the hanging scroll in the alcove?”

When a tea house was set for ceremony everything in it was chosen with deliberation, which meant that the entire scene had the potential to provide more answers than Ryu was willing to let fall from his lips. Shiro turned his head to examine the haiku on the scroll more closely.

> Without seeing sunlight  
> the winter camellia  
> blooms

“It’s by Issa.” One of the four great masters of linked verse.

“Yes,” Ryu said, “that is the name of the poet. What else about it speaks to you?”

Shiro’s lips thinned in frustration. He had never enjoyed pop quizzes and only his mother’s admonition before sending him in here was keeping him from storming out in a magnificent breach of etiquette. He gazed again at the haiku, and the lonely blossom in its cold ceramic cell beneath it.

“It is an unusual flower that can bloom in the dead of winter,” he said finally. “A tenacious one, I would think, though it appears soft.”

“Yes.” Ryu’s lips smiled but his eyes were drawn with something that looked rather like anguish. “You are such a flower, Takashi-san. When your scent began to transition from the soft odor of a child to rare and noble kyara, I began to realize that you could grow up to become a man of consequence, and you have.” Ryu’s smile trembled. “You have become a man whom any father would be proud to claim as his son, but I can take no credit for this, for you have bloomed in the winter of my disregard.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
On some level Kuro was aware that he was dreaming, but he was enjoying his solitary stroll through the Shirogane estate’s roji garden, so he set that knowledge aside, that he might appreciate the dappled sunlight on his face without wondering if someone had turned a lamp on in his bedchamber. He walked under the shade of apricot trees with the feathery leaves of cypress reaching out to brush his sleeves as he tread on the path lined with stepping stones. He was wearing his visiting kimono of light blue silk, decorated with the seven flowers of autumn in a cascade over his shoulder and below the obi line, a rare treat. Usually he only got to wear this once per year, when a Shinto priest would visit to bless the tutelary kami of the estate. The light, clean scent of cypress surrounded him as he followed the soothing sound of running water toward the waiting arbor of Ginga-tei.

When he rounded the path within sight of the koi pond, he could also see that the tea house was occupied, candlelight glowing from the other side of its closed shoji window and door screens. He sighed. It would have been very nice to visit the nishikigoi in the pond. He was especially fond of the nine-crested dragons, with their black markings that changed with the seasons. But it would be terribly rude to trespass upon a tea gathering in progress, and his presence on the stone slab bridge over the pond would be too close to the shoji screens to go unnoticed.

He turned and headed northwest, following the garden stream’s path toward the corner of the property where the estate kami were enshrined. Kuro wondered if Nagato was remembering to leave offerings while they were gone. As he cleansed his hands and mouth in the stream, he hoped so. Cypress stands became thicker, interspersed with cedar and sakaki, eventually giving way to a small clearing in which the sakaki were predominant. In the clearing stood the small wooden tutelary shrine on its stone foundation, and in front of the small structure stood a beautiful woman in a kurotomesode bearing the Shirogane crest in shadow motif.

“Forgive me, Shirogane-sama,” Kuro said, bowing deeply. “I did not mean to intrude upon your sanctuary.”

Kuro was not certain of who the woman was, but he could take a guess. He may have seen her picture before, partially obscured by incense in the butsudan inside of the main house while Chichue was still alive.

“Rise, Kuro-kun.” 

She had somehow crossed the clearing to stand before him without making a single sound. The hem of her kimono swept the ground like hikizuri, making it impossible to tell whether she had feet under there. Kuro did as she bade and stood, looking into eyes as grey as Aniue’s. With her hair worn down loose, only four of her kamon would be visible on her kimono.

“You are not an intruder here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Walk with me, and let us go and view the Juneberry tree. Its leaves are so beautiful during this time of the year.”

The gesture was an uncommon one in this setting, but Kuro had gained some familiarity with it recently. As he placed his hand into her pond-cool palm, he also remembered that Aniue was a kwōta, making his mother a hāfu. It was entirely possible that missing feet did not constitute a reliable clue for determining if she was a yūrei. He would have to listen for moaning and clanking instead, and if he heard it, he was going to run until he woke himself up.

They followed the chiming of the water to the long tumble of rocks where the garden stream was fed by the nearby Azusa River. The Juneberry tree grew there beside the stream, its leaves an opulent display of red-bronze. Upon closer viewing they showed themselves to be crimson shot through with veins of gold, like red lacquered antiques when the wood grain starts to peek out from behind the worn spots.

“You may ask me anything,” said Aniue’s mother, “but be advised that my answers may of necessity be enigmatic.”

She had not moaned or clanked even once, and this was a singular opportunity. Kuro decided to be brave. “If I were to leave my home, may I ever return?”

“You can always return here in your mind,” Shirogane-sama replied, glancing at him with an expression that spoke of understanding. “Physically you can return to the coordinates represented by this place, but it may not feel the same as before you left it.”

Kuro watched a red-bronze leaf separate from its branch and float down to the water burbling in the stream. It washed up on a polished rock, shining there a moment in the sun, before the current caught it up again and sent it sailing forth like a red fishing boat. He thought of Shinji asking him what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and Aniue promising to let him learn new dances. He thought of Pidge, and all of the unforeseen possibilities which had opened up with the simple knowledge that she existed. A future he’d never contemplated coming within his reach was suddenly near enough to touch.

Then he thought of how much he loved strolling the villa’s grounds and gardens in Spring and Autumn, raking the indoor rock garden in the summer, and aerating the pond for the nishikigoi in the wintertime. He remembered how Izu and Nagato would joke around with each other and let Kuro help them with small things around the property whenever Hahaue wasn’t looking, and sneak him treats. He recalled many moments when Hahaue would show affection instead of stress, making him tea or sitting close beside him during hanami; moments when he forgot that Kuro was an omega who was woefully behind in all of his training and remembered only that he was his son. 

This place had been Kuro’s home for all of his life. Its sights, sounds and smells had become a part of his whole being. Who would he be if he could not see the first sakura of Spring, taste sweet shaved ice in the Summer, hear the rain thudding against the roof above his bedroom in Autumn, or smell the fresh fallen snow that blanketed the eaves in Winter? The fanciful future he’d been trying to envision now seemed quixotic.

“Will it be bad coming back here, if I leave?”

“Not bad,” Shirogane-sama said. “Just unavoidably different.”

Somewhere in the trees, a blue-and-white flycatcher whistled a plaintive melody.

“Would it really change so much if I am not here?”

“It is not the place that would change so much.” Shirogane-sama’s voice was as tender as the songbird’s. “It is you who would change. The place would look different to you because you would be taking it in through changed eyes.”

Kuro observed the water moving swiftly across the landscape, wondering how much rapid change he could tolerate, and how much of his soul he risked leaving behind in the doing.


	18. Chiisana Koi No Uta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big wedding day begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you as ever to everybody who reads, kudos and comments. Shout outs to luminiferousaether, PyroInfinite and Silly_JillyBean. Silly_JillyBean, I am so sorry for your loss.

  
Keith awoke from his last night as a resident of the guest room to the sound of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” playing very loudly from very close by. He sat up in the daybed blinking sleep out of his eyes. What time was it even?

Time to kick Akane’s ass, he decided as he grabbed his phone off the butler’s desk. _“Let me hold your phone, I want to program your mom’s new cell number in there.”_ But that’s not all she’d programmed when she’d caught him with his guard down at the rehearsal dinner. Keith had a brand new ringtone, which Akane had then used to program his alarm to wake him up at wtf in the morning. He also had a text message sent only seconds ago.

_you better get up n take care of the 3 S’s bc im sending your MOH to come get you_

  
The three– ? She knew damn well he didn’t have to shave! He didn’t really have to shower, either, as he’d indulged in an extravagantly long soak in the Cinderella tub before going to bed. He’d probably better see to taking care of that third one, though. Once they started wrapping him in kimono, the opportunities might become scarce.

Another text alert chimed. This one was from Lance.

_ur cuz is blowin up ma fone want me 2 stall 4 u or shud I come get u now_

Keith smirked and texted a reply.

_come on over its fine_

Lance texted back.

_kk got a suprise 4 u too_

Uh oh.

_good suprise I promise_

How did he always know? Pondering the workings of Lance’s brain was a train of thought on a möbius loop, so Keith chose to leave that mystery as it was and go and find some breakfast. Fresh coffee should get everything moving along smoothly.

He found Hunk in the kitchen and leaned against the door-frame to watch him work. He had the rice cooker steaming on the counter, linguiça popping and crackling on the stove, and piping hot coffee ready to pour. He’d basically just rolled out of bed and rolled up his sleeves from the look of things. He hadn’t even put his shoes on, dancing around the kitchen in bare feet to a cadence in his head as he added another hot skillet to the collection of items he was minding. He half-turned on another pass to get a knob of butter and spotted Keith watching him, then turned the warmth of his smile Keith’s way. 

“Morning, babe. Sunny side up?”

Keith smiled back and shouldered himself off the door-frame. “You know it.”

Keith took over turning the linguiça while Hunk set about frying up their eggs. They plated their breakfasts and brought them over to the dining table, where the soy sauce had already been set out. Whenever they had their eggs this way Hunk liked to douse his rice with the sauce before setting up the perfect forkful of rice, egg and whatever breakfast meat they were having on a given day, while Keith preferred to cut up his eggs in the rice and stir the yolk through it, leaving his sauce on the side for dipping. He liked the way the egg yolk turned the steamed rice golden, and as he reflected on this, he remembered his dream.

“I had a dream about my dad last night.”

Hunk paused in his quest for the perfect slice of linguiça to add to his loaded fork. “You did?”

Keith smiled. Hunk was waiting for Keith to tell him whether it was cause for concern or not, no prejudgment. Because Hunk was super cool like that.

“Yeah, I did. It was a good dream,” he said, to Hunk’s visible relief. “He said he wished he could be there today.”

Hunk smiled, immediately picking up on Keith’s soft mood, in that way he had of making it look so easy when Keith knew from long experience that he himself didn’t really make it all that easy.

“You know something? I think he will be there with us somehow.”

Keith had already believed that deep down, but hearing it reaffirmed made him feel warm all the way through.

They’d just finished breakfast and were starting on their second cups of coffee when a rolling growl from out in the driveway alerted them to Lance’s arrival. Was he gunning the motor out there? Maybe somebody spotted him in the meme-mobile and he decided to show off a little bit. Keith ducked back into the guest room to use the facilities and throw on a t-shirt and jeans while Hunk met Lance at the door. When he came back out, Hunk was fixing up two cups of joe to go in insulated thermoses.

“Hunk you blessed angel.” Lance was also in jeans and a t-shirt. He wouldn’t need to get gussied up for quite a few hours yet since he wasn’t in the first ceremony. “Haruka made us eat a special breakfast for good skin and high energy this morning.” He made kissy noises at the thermos Hunk handed him. “Hello coffee, I missed you!”

Hunk laughed. “Coffee’s not part of a high energy breakfast?”

“She made us eat natto!”

Keith joined Hunk in laughter as he walked up to accept his own thermos and a kiss. 

“Hey man, I’ll eat beans that smell like feet every day if it’s really as good for my skin as she says it is, but don’t take my coffee away from me.” Lance clutched the thermos to his chest. “I don’t even care if it really does dehydrate me or make me break out, I’ll just drink more water.”

Keith took a swig of the rich brew from his thermos. “If you see a zit pop out on me today, you have my permission in advance to spackle the shit out of it.” If wearing concealer was the sacrifice he had to make for coffee on this fine day, then so be it.

“I got you fam.” 

Lance clinked thermoses with Keith, and then Keith stole one more kiss from Hunk.

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” Hunk said, strong arms and lush scent a toasty haven.

“I’ll be the one in the giant wig,” Keith replied, rubbing his cheek on Hunk’s neck one last time before heading out the door with Hunk’s laughter like a blanket of sunlight for his nerves.

He was getting married, and it was going to be about as opposite of low key as it could get for a wedding that was put together in a week. But no sooner had that knowledge started to really sink in than Keith saw what was waiting for him in the driveway. There sat not the expected humongous SUV, but a silky smooth black– 

“Bitchin’ Camaro!” As he circled around the vehicle to the passenger side, Keith trailed an admiring hand over the aerodynamically shaped hood, still warm under his touch. 

“Thought you’d like it.” Lance grinned at him as they both slung themselves into the racing style front seats. “Shinji brought it back just in the nick of time. I wish we could put the top down but then you’d smell like the 10 by the time we got there.”

“Fuck that shit,” Keith decided, “put the top down, man. I’ll just use Akane’s shower when we get to her place.” Akane would gripe, but it would be worth it.

Lance laughed and pressed a button on the key fob causing the car to retract its soft top and fold it into the trunk like a frigging Transformer. Keith started tapping on the console to find them some tunes as they roared off into the rosebud light of early morning. They hit the interstate with the radio blasting, ahead of the morning rush hour.

However, there were some other drivers on the road, and they definitely took notice. A few of them might have even taken pictures but Keith could not be bothered to give a single damn about that. Not even later, when he saw the memes.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shinji and Tatsuo had shown up at an hour of the morning that would have been indecent if not for the fact that all of the occupants of the Penthouse Suite were up already. Tatsuo had invited himself to assist Kuro in getting ready for the day as a pretext for quizzing him about who knows what, and was presently holed up with him in the cloister room, probably sniffing the sheets on the bed to make sure that no alphas had crept in during Kuro’s brief stay there. Haruka and Kai had gone with Hunk’s mother and aunt to help them deliver something to the hotel’s kitchens. As for Shiro, he had volunteered himself to help Shinji tote their luggage up to the Veranda Suite. It was the only specialty suite that had been vacant when they’d turned up at the hotel’s front desk, and although it was early for check-in, nobody wanted to argue with Tatsuo first thing in the morning.

It was also one of the most sequestered suites, with a secluded staircase leading up to a private floor on top of the Wilshire wing of the hotel. Shiro and Shinji ordered coffee from room service and then kicked back in the suite’s indoor sitting area. The suite had two outdoor conversation areas, a glamping tent, and only one bed (albeit a large one), all clearly visible from the indoor sitting area.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at Shinji. “Where are you going to sleep?”

Shinji smiled enigmatically. “The tent, of course.”

Of course. Shiro suspected that his cousin would initially retire to the tent, but if Tatsuo did not want Shinji to remain in the tent, then there would be nothing stopping Shinji from coming back inside. He and Tatsuo both had the glow of a new understanding about them.

“Thank you for letting Kuro-kun remain with you for this time.” Shinji poured them each a second cup of steaming coffee from the silver carafe. “I hope he has not been too much trouble.”

“He’s been a pleasure,” Shiro said honestly. His dream was still on his mind, in spite of competing distractions. There were several incidents that he could think of now in which things could have gone much worse if not for Kuro’s presence. If his father had not rushed headlong into marriage with his stepmother then Kuro would surely not exist, which would have been its own tragedy despite that nobody would have known. “The gakuen principal said that Kuro has excellent chances of passing exams by his coming of age if he begins working with a tutor as soon as possible.”

“That is outstanding news.”

Before Shinji could elaborate on that statement, Shiro’s cell phone rang. He dragged it out of his pocket to see if it was a call he could afford to ignore, saw the picture of Lance’s smiling face and answered at once. “Hey, you.”

_“Hey!”_ Lance sounded both relieved and stressed, a combination that made Shiro’s inner alpha as confused as a cat facing itself in the mirror. _“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you packed a haori jacket that could go with the hakama Tatsuo gave you?”_ In the background Shiro could hear people arguing in Nihongo.

“I have clothing that can be worn with hakama,” Shinji said as he leaned across the coffee table, curiosity obviously piqued.

“What’s going on over there?” Shiro demanded.

Lance laughed, not the big goofy laugh that meant everything was hunky-dory, but the high pitched laugh that meant he was hanging onto his sense of humor like the kitten in the ‘Hang in There, Baby’ poster. _“Oh, it’s a short but shouty tale. Let me get somewhere a little quieter and I’ll tell you all about it.”_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance sneaked out onto the terrace, with its pelagic view of blue-green interlocking tiles and the skyline of downtown L.A. beyond that sea of rooftops. After a night of dreaming about his murdered father followed by a morning being made to eat slimy beans that smelled like Chthulu’s toe jam, he’d reveled in flying down the highway with the top down, music blowing out of the speakers and Keith trying to compete for volume. They'd both needed the stress relief. When Keith let them into his cousin’s apartment, they’d found her already dressed up in striped hakama pants with a haori jacket in a deep, vibrant red. She had been busy transferring fresh cooked rice to a covered bowl and had let them know that she was unimpressed with their shenanigans, which was to be expected (but also totally worth it).

The small apartment was bustling with activity when they’d walked in. Hunk’s sister had already arrived and was dressed a lot like Akane, except the top of her outfit was a marigold color. She was trying to get her kids to simmer down, both of them keyed up with no room to expend that energy. Mana was already dressed in his suit for the second ceremony, as this was deemed acceptably formal attire for a beta male guest at the first ceremony and making him change would have just added to Hina’s to-do list, which already appeared to be packed full. 

Lena was decked out in a long-sleeved colorful kimono similar to what Kuro had worn to Lance’s wedding, but with less jeuje going on in the hair area. Getting her out of that outfit and into the orange dress later was going to be Mrs. Suzuishi’s job, but she was just one woman with two hands. There was also a Mr. Suzuishi, who was over at Hunk’s place helping the menfolk get situated. Hunk’s mom and aunt were due to come over to the apartment to get dressed up after dropping something off at the hotel, and they could turn up any second.

Mrs. Suzuishi was presently in Keith’s old bedroom wrapping his mom up like a glamorous burrito. It was supposed to be Keith’s turn after that, except he showed up smelling like exhaust fumes, which wouldn’t do before putting on expensive silk clothing that required an arduous cleaning process if it got dirty. He took one of his famous fast showers and then submitted to his cousin’s tender mercies with the hair dryer, and that’s when the argument had started. In earnest. They’d already been arguing, but it was just their usual raillery up until the issue of a go-between had entered the conversation, after which point it had escalated rather quickly.

“I told you, you need someone to act as a nakōdo for the ceremony.” The hair dryer whirred. “I don’t know why you didn’t just ask Danko-sensei when you spoke to her yesterday.”

“And I told you, Hunk and I didn’t have a nakōdo.”

“Somebody must have introduced you two to each other.”

“Lance introduced us. We’ll just stick him in one of the kimono Mrs. Suzuishi brought, it’ll be frosty.”

“You mean one of the kimono meant for you? I see what you’re up to. Besides, he can’t do it.”

“He’s my honor attendant, isn’t he? Who better?”

“He would be perfect, if only for the fact that he doesn’t speak Nihongo.”

“He’s learning.”

“Whoever speaks for you as your go-between in the ceremony has to be fluent. It might be fine to mess up a little in a civil ceremony, but there can be no mistakes in the temple. He could accidentally curse you both to stare at each other’s crotches for eternity, stop laughing Keith, this kind of thing has happened before!”

“Why do we even need a go-between to speak for us? That’s like having a pimp!”

“Who the hell! It’s not like that at all, it’s like having a godparent for your marriage!”

“We’re not even Cath– ow! That’s my scalp attached to that hair!”

“You’re supposed to have a married person to help you whenever you need a go-between, you know this! And it shouldn’t be a close relative because that job is already too stressful!”

This was where things had gotten shouty and Lance knew he had to do something. Hina had just taken her kids downstairs to meet her mother and aunt, saying she had to guide them to a parking spot and then help them carry some flowers out of her mother’s van, so she was not available for consultation. Keith’s mom and Mrs. Suzuishi were still in Keith’s old room presumably hearing all of this but at too delicate a stage of the kimono wrapping process to come out and intervene. It was all up to Lancey Lance to save the day.

His first thought for this go-between role was Haruka. On the one hand she was like marriage goals, and she’d probably do cartwheels if Keith asked her to be his advisor. Whatever she might be doing she’d resolutely drop it to come out and be a part of the first ceremony, and she did speak Japanese. On the other hand though, she had not been involved in getting Keith and Hunk together in any capacity, and Lance had no idea if she’d brought any kimono with her to California. Heaven help everybody if she had to use one of Keith’s.

Lance’s second thought was that if it hadn’t been for Shiro, he’d never have gone to the hotel and met Hunk in the first place, much less introduced Hunk to Keith. Shiro was related to Keith, but far enough removed that it might not be an issue. He qualified as married, even if it was only by a few days longer than Keith and Hunk, it still counted, right? Shiro was fluent in Japanese and as far as the formalwear went, he at least had the pants. 

That was good enough for Lance. He called up his husband and filled him in on the sitch.

“I will lend some of my clothing to Shiro and drive him over there to meet up with the wedding party.”

Shinji had the most miraculous timing of any person Lance had ever met. Bless him and all of his future progeny, even if they came out of Tatsuo. Lance finalized the details with Shinji and Shiro and then went back inside to go risk life and limb interrupting the tiff.

“You can both unclench now, your nakodo is on the way.”

“You’re pronouncing that word incorrectly,” Keith pointed out.

“Who did you invite over here?” Akane asked.

“My better half,” Lance said. 

“Good thinking, Lance.” Keith relaxed back on Akane’s messy bed like a cat in a laundry basket.

Mission accomplished. Lance did a mental victory lap and gave himself a mental back pat and a mental round of applause. He was like MOH Rocky.

After that, things started happening quickly (or at least, that’s what it felt like). Keith’s mother was released from the chrysalis of the kimono wrapping bedroom, startlingly beautiful in a black kimono decorated with a phoenix flying through a cloud of peonies. Keith disappeared into the bedroom as soon as she came out, and after that Lance only caught the occasional glimpse of him, as Hunk’s mom and aunt went in there and came out again wearing kimono that looked to Lance’s untrained eye similar to Krolia’s, except that Alana’s had sea turtles cavorting through foamy waves, and Leia’s was orange with a motif of scattered fans decorating the bottom and waving over her shoulder and sleeves. Meanwhile, Keith’s hair disappeared under an elaborate wig studded with ornaments of what looked like some sort of golden resin, and then more and more layers of white cloth began appearing on him like time lapse photography every time somebody opened the door.

Hunk arrived on the scene with his dad, uncle and cousin. The two groomsmen were, like Mana, dressed in black suits with orange ties, while Jin wore a morning suit with striped trousers which made a harmonious impression whenever he stood next to anyone wearing hakama. Hunk was dressed like Akane and Hina, except with black upper garments. Lance was aware that they were actually wearing kimono under those hakama pants and haori jackets, but it was easy for him to forget because it all looked so smooth, no sign of bunching anywhere. Hunk’s haori was a family heirloom, and Lance listened patiently while he explained the symbolism of the moon rabbit on his family crest, partly because he was curious, but mostly because talking seemed to be smoothing out Hunk’s nerves. 

Finally Mr. Suzuishi showed up to help put the final layers on Keith’s outfit, and Krolia went in there with him wielding a tube of liquid lip color. A couple of minutes later, Akane came out of her room with Jiro and went into the other bedroom carrying what looked like a lacquered wooden scabbard in her hands. It was shortly after this that Shiro and Shinji knocked on the door. The storage bench in the hall was now chock-a-block with shoes. Shinji looked as put-together as he usually did in a jacket-slacks-sweater combo. 

Shiro was dressed like Hunk, and looked like elegance personified. Lance wanted to know how far down under those hakama pants Shiro’s kimono went, and he wanted to know right now. If he’d had any idea how hard Shiro was gonna rock that look, he would have had a– wait, he did have a camera ready for this moment. He raised his phone and snapped off a couple of quick shots, much to Shiro’s blushing and Shinji’s laughter. 

“Work it.” _Snap, snap_. “Make eyes at the camera baby, give us a sideways lean pose.”

Then Shiro stepped forward with a little smile and swiped a thumb across the corner of Lance’s mouth.

“What?” Lance rubbed at the spot Shiro had just thumbed. “Do I have chapped lips?” OMG, was Haruka right about the coffee being dehydrating? Did he have to give up his precious coffee?

“You just got a little drool there, honey, but it’s all right I took care of it for you,” Shiro said, and then everybody standing in their vicinity had themselves a laugh while it was Lance’s turn to blush.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Laughter bubbled over from the other side of the door. Lance was probably out there doing something ridiculous to keep the mood light. Keith’s lips twitched toward a smile in spite of all the tugging going on around his tightly-wrapped torso. He’d accidentally left his kaiken knife with his clothes when he used Akane’s shower, so she’d brought it back to be added to his wedding raiment, and there was peace in all the land. Mr. Suzuishi placed the kaiken in a bag tied off with a tasseled cord, then tucked the wrapped knife into Keith’s obi so that the tassels fell over the heart side collar of his uchikake.

This required readjusting the folded suehiro fan already tucked there, as well as the embroidered cosmetics purse tucked into his kimono collar, hence all the tugging. Mrs. Suzuishi was meanwhile removing the clips she’d placed on the garment collars to hold their shape, and adjusting the wataboshi hat around his wig. The idea was that only Hunk would ever get a full, clear glimpse of his face throughout the ceremony, and in the interest of double-checking that, Mrs. Suzuishi leaned into his peripheral and caught him smiling.

“You should save that grin for your hotel reception,” she said. “It is bad luck to smile during the divine ceremony.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Akane piped up, “he’s got a resting bitchface for the gods.”

Keith scowled.

“That’s better,” said Mrs. Suzuishi, patting his shoulder.

They filed out of the room leaving Keith and his mother in privacy. Krolia smiled at her son. She was breathtaking in kurotomesode adorned with kamon. Akane had chosen their grandfather’s kamon depicting chestnuts framed by sheaves of grain, but Krolia had decided on this day to honor Keith’s absent father by wearing his family crest composed of heavily stylized kanji. 

“You are beautiful,” she said.

Keith smiled back and felt the subtle stretch of the scar on his cheek. “You really think so?”

“My shining star.” Krolia scented his cheek with her wrist. “Do I look any less like your mother because of these?” She tilted her head this way and that to make her meaning clear.

“You always look perfect to me,” Keith replied, and then both of their scents mingled together into a heady sweet scent like plum wine.

“One last thing.” Krolia shook the lipstick tube. “Are you ready?” 

Keith understood the underlying question due to the look on her face and feel in her scent, and he was moved. If he was not ready to get married she would leave with him right there and then, no explanation required.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m ready,” and then held still while she applied vermilion color to his lips with the applicator wand.

Then she turned him toward the dresser with its large mirror so that he could see himself. Cranes embroidered in lustrous white thread flew across the surface of the uchikake. He was dressed head to foot in white, with red peeking from the linings of his wataboshi and uchikake, and from his rosy lips in his snow white face. Mrs. Suzuishi had put a liquid to powder foundation on him which had given his fair skin a soft matte look, then declared that he didn’t need false lashes and just put on a single coat of mascara. 

“I know your future will be bright, no matter what,” Krolia said, bringing her face next to his in the mirror. Their resemblance to one another was profound. “Do you know how to walk in the zori?”

“Toes turned slightly inwards, small steps.” This was to avoid having the kimono flap open on a stride.

Krolia nodded and stroked his cheek one last time. “Let’s be off.”

When they left the bedroom, most of the wedding party had already vacated the apartment, save three. The rest would likely be waiting either downstairs or at the temple, except for Mr. Suzuishi who had gone ahead to the dressing rooms at the other venue so that he could prepare for their eventual arrival there. 

Mrs. Suzuishi stepped forward and expertly gathered fabric and placed it in Keith’s hands. “Remember to hold it off the ground until you are inside the temple,” she said. “Then you may allow the hem to trail, but don’t let your sleeves drag.” She gave him a small smile. “You look a picture.”

“Thank you,” Keith said, nodding as much of a bow as he dared in the most elaborate outfit he had ever put on. He would be expected to bow more deeply when he arrived at the temple, but if he messed up the careful creases and folds before then he might be pulled into another tugging session and wind up late to his own marriage blessing.

Mrs. Suzuishi nodded back and went into the bedroom which Keith and Krolia had just left. She would be helping him with a small change of colors when he returned to the apartment, so she probably intended to go and get that ready. That left Shinji Ise and Lance standing in the dining room with him and Krolia.

“You are a lovely bride, Kogane-san,” Shinji said, bowing his respect. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you.” He was probably going to wind up saying that a lot for the rest of day.

Shinji smiled understandingly and then told Lance he’d be waiting for him in the car. That left Keith, Lance and Krolia.

“I’ll be just downstairs, sweetie,” Krolia said.

Then it was just Keith and Lance.

“Wow,” Lance breathed. His bright smile wobbled and damn it he’d better not cry because if he did then Keith might cry, and ruin the makeup Mrs. Suzuishi and his mother had so carefully applied on him.

Time for Keith to pull a Lance. “Be honest, do I look like I’m about to hide the plans for the Death Star in a little droid?”

Lance blubbered out a laugh. “Not in a bad way.” 

Lance reached out to trail a finger around the brim of Keith’s wataboshi and that was it. Keith had never been good at resisting impulse. He pulled his friend into as much of an embrace as he could manage when he couldn’t raise his arms above shoulder level.

Lance hugged him back, more carefully than he’d normally do. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I don’t want to mess up your outfit, this looks like architecture.”

Now Keith was laughing too, eyes squeezed tight with the effort of keeping his tear ducts from just letting loose. “Yeah there’s scaffolding under here like you wouldn’t believe.”

They rocked each other back and forth in a manner that would probably make Mrs. Suzuishi give them a verbal scalding if she were to see it. What a long, strange trip they’d been on together. To experience this change in their lives in the same place in time was precious. When they finally parted Keith had dropped his trailing hem, so Lance picked it up and held it for him as they shuffled into their shoes and went out to catch up with the others.

They took the elevator which Keith hadn’t used since the day he’d moved his belongings out of Akane’s place, and crossed the lobby which was still furnished in red, black and white as it had been the entire time Keith had lived there, emerging onto the sidewalk to find that Shiro had been playing chauffeur while they were upstairs. With many of the passengers in kimono, he’d decided to avoid crowding the Sequoia but he still managed to get everyone there in just three trips, the third being Keith and his mother. They negotiated Keith into the backseat, with Krolia drawing him up from the inside and Shiro handing him up from the outside while Lance continued to hold the train up off the ground. Then Lance snapped pictures with his phone and waved as they pulled away from the meter.

The temple was a very short drive, but it had been a very long time since an omega bride had made the trek from home on foot, the surrounding city having long adapted to cars over pedestrians. As Krolia and Shiro helped him down from the SUV in the parking lot, Keith looked up and locked eyes with Hunk. He was so tall and broad in the black and grey formalwear, like a high island. It was not in Keith’s nature to look to others as a shield, but he felt as if Hunk would make himself one if Keith were to ask the favor, and it did not make him feel weak. He stepped up next to his groom, feeling their individual strengths complement one another.

Akane came down the garden path to let them know that their celebrant was ready to begin. Krolia took up the trailing hem of Keith’s uchikake as she took up her position on Keith’s right side. The rest of the family fell in behind them as the procession ventured onto temple grounds through the compound’s perimeter garden. L.A. morning rush hour bustled just beyond the iron fence, but on the short path sheltered by sculpted trees and guarded by rocks, peace reigned and stone lanterns guided the way.

Contributions were respectfully dropped in the offertory as they climbed the steps into the temple. Shoes were removed before they filed inside the main hall. Flowers and rice were given for the altar as the guests pressed their hands together in gassho and bowed to the shrine before taking seats on either side of the aisle. A reverend wearing the saffron sash and robe of his office over a suit and tie led Keith aside with his mother, Hunk and Shiro.

“I notice that we have another participant?”

He had noticed that Shiro was one of the only two alphas in the party who were wearing full kuro montsuki. Shiro hurried to explain his ceremonial role with a comical degree of earnestness. A go-between had not been a required element of omega weddings for decades, Akane was just applying her usual idiosyncratic brand of protectiveness to the situation. Also, Reverend Kijishi possessed more chill than a bucket of ice, so it wasn’t like he was going to say ‘no, you may not add this last minute thing to the blessing, how dare you’ or anything like that. At least Shiro was taking the role seriously? It wasn’t that funny, except that it kind of was.

It occurred to Keith that he, himself might be a tiny little bit of a brat for noticing this when his mind was supposed to be clear and his heart pure before approaching the shrine. He turned his head to check Hunk’s reaction and found him looking back with his ‘must not laugh nor crack a smile’ face. First Keith had people testing his ability not to cry in public, now he had people testing his ability not to laugh. Was the whole wedding day going to be like this?

Reverend Kijishi accepted the minor change with his typical aplomb and signaled to one of his assistants, who rang the bell to bring the whole company to awareness that the ceremony was beginning. A second assistant used a plectrum to strike notes on the biwa as the reverend and his two assistants chanted the shōmyō. Reverend Kijishi led the small processional toward the shrine, and Keith almost stopped when he saw all of the paper cranes lining the aisle on each side. 

There were the red and yellow which he’d seen Akane purchase the kami paper for, but also green, blue, purple, gold and white. Most of them were of the medium size that would fit easily in the palm of a hand. There was also a flock of tiny ones with a few really big ones sitting among them like sandhill cranes among snowy egrets. Akane had gotten it done. How had she found a way to fold all of those cranes? 

Keith’s mother squeezed his hand and he remembered to keep walking. 

The reverend made an incense offering, the scent and the music blending into a calming cloud as each member of the procession bowed to the chinjusha. Shiro and Krolia took seats in the front row. Reverend Kijishi turned to address the room as the last note of music throbbed in the air.

｢It is with gratitude that we are here today to bless the union of these two people in the presence of their families and The Enlightened One. The Buddha once responded to a request for lucky omens with a list of blessings, among which was included, “To support mother and father, to cherish spouse and children, and to be engaged in peaceful occupation – this is the greatest blessing.” All thirty-eight blessings were the greatest blessings. The Buddha was relaying a practical guide for living the best life possible in an imperfect world. Through compassionate duty to others might we find our own enlightenment. It is with this in mind that we will bear witness as this couple recites their vows.｣

A letter in kanji was handed to Hunk by one of the assistants. Hunk looked down at the letter, then up at Keith. His eyes shone in the candlelight.

｢I promise that I will honor and respect you as I place my trust in you while we work together to create a peaceful family.｣

His warm voice thrummed across the small space between them with the truth of his words. Keith took the letter from his hands and repeated those words back to him with lightness in his heart. They were given brush tip pens to sign the letter, which was not a legally binding document but rather a memento to reflect upon when needed, and which might possibly be treasured by their children some day long in the future.

｢The go-between may now approach the chinjusha with his testament to this couple’s vows.｣

Shiro did as asked and was given the letter to examine. He nodded, and said, ｢I do solemnly swear that I have witnessed this couple’s vows and can attest to their veracity.｣

He was witnessing a marriage blessing, not testifying before Congress. Keith met Hunk’s eyes and saw that look again, and knew that it must be reflected on his own face. He was glad the wataboshi was hiding his struggle not to smile from everybody but Hunk.

｢And will you uphold your social obligation to support their efforts to be compassionate to one another?｣

Shiro was basically being asked to look out for them in front of witnesses who would presumably keep him honest. This was a rather archaic custom that was originally meant to ensure the physical safety of the omega in an arranged marriage, though it hadn’t always worked out that way, which was mostly why it was becoming obsolete. Keith was positive that it wasn’t necessary in his case, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t touching to know that both of his cousins cared enough to want to do it anyway.

｢I will.｣ Then Shiro signed the letter with an effusive flourish. His shodō was way prettier than anyone else’s on the letter, even the reverend’s.

Then Shiro was handed two strands of contemplation beads which had first been passed through the smoke of the incense; one of carnelian and the other of natural wood. He gave the carnelian strand to Hunk. Keith pressed his palms together and Hunk slipped the cool beads over his hands into the nook made by his thumbs. Shiro gave the wooden strand of beads to Keith, who grasped them with his clasped fingers and slipped them over Hunk’s joined palms, the tassel hanging down like cattails.

They were invited to step forward and offer incense; first Hunk, then Keith, and finally Shiro. As he removed his right hand from the strand of beads to take a pinch of incense and place it in the burner, Keith felt a gentle brush of fondness, a feeling he associated strongly with his father. The bittersweet scent of the incense floated over him like mist.

One of the reverend’s assistants brought forth the lacquered tray for san-san-kudo and began to separate the layered sakazuki bowls onto the smaller altar table. Reverend Kijishi explained that three was an indivisible number, and just as there were three jewels of refuge, there would be three bowls of sake which, when sipped three times each, might allow one to reflect on the nine qualities of Buddha. If one could overcome the taste of the sake, then one could overcome the challenges in marriage.

The sake used in san-san-kudo was notoriously dire; intentionally so, as can-do spirit could not be properly represented by a mild spirit. Keith watched in mild apprehension as the assistant gracefully dipped the pot’s spout three times, pouring a small amount of sake the third time. Hunk was up first. He lifted the bowl to his lips three times, drinking the sake on the third lift. His face was as tranquil as a sunlit pond as he set the bowl back down to be filled for Keith’s turn.

Keith knew he couldn’t use Hunk’s example as a predictor for how easy-drinking this sake was going to be. Hunk might go queasy at the slightest hint of turbulence, emotional or literal, but when it came to food or drink his stomach was cast iron. Keith braced himself as he watched the assistant repeat the elegant motions of delivering a dose of what might very well be undiluted sake.

He lifted the cup one, two times and smelled the alcohol rising off of a variety of sake that was probably meant to be served warm to mellow it out, but was being given to them at room temperature. Third lift and he was nipping down a beverage that made Thunderbird taste as soft as a wine cooler by comparison. Keith liked to partake as much as the next guy, but he didn’t go out of his way looking for the highest proof drinks he could find and then tossing them back with no chaser.

He had to do this two more times. He watched as Hunk made the ritual look as easy as drinking water. He gave Keith an encouraging nod that fortified his gut to finish his turns. It was a good thing the servings were small or they’d have been under the table by the end of it. They still had one more ceremony left to go before they could get under a table or anything else.

Hunk’s parents were the next pair called upon to drink the sake, followed by Krolia and Akane, as a symbol of unifying their families. As their elected go-between, Shiro took a turn too. As much as the sake bit back, the ritual left Keith feeling closer to everybody in the room, pulled together by shared high spirits and dry mouths.

｢It is my pleasure to congratulate you both on your commitment to practice compassion with one another. May you treat each other with respect as you continue along the Noble Eightfold Path.｣

The recessional began. As Hunk (finally) took Keith’s hand to assist him down the aisle in his heavy raiment, their families scooped cranes into their palms to shower them with colorful well wishes. They made their slow progress to the other end of the hall as bright paper birds rained over their heads, and Keith could no longer keep the smile off his face.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“What on Earth are they doing?”

Tatsuo sat in the Penthouse Suite’s parlor next to Shinji, who had recently returned from ferrying Shiro over to act as Kogane’s nakōdo. It would seem that one had made a passion match and then been prepared to treat a ceremony before the Buddha like a hostless party. Scandalous.

Haruka had begun to prepare them an early lunch and Lance offered to help her, so she asked him to make a pot of coffee as casually as if he were her housemate instead of the newly-installed helpmate to her head of house. At least she had the sense to look chagrined about the request. It was at this point that Kuro became interested in the proceedings and Tatsuo told him that if he was going to watch at close range then he might as well assist them. Perhaps the boy was finally developing an interest in the culinary arts.

Now the three of them stood close together in the kitchen cooing over something on Lance’s phone and ignoring their dashi steeping on the stove.

“I believe that Shiro is sending them more pictures of the bride and groom,” Shinji said.

Silly children. They had already viewed pictures of the couple on Lance’s phone no sooner than he’d walked in the door. Kogane had been attired in full shiromuku, despite that he could have easily demanded to wear the hikifurisode since they would not be going before a Shinto priest. Yet instead of making a valid request to wear an ensemble of fewer layers, he had used up his bridal capital in an attempt to forgo the go-between. 

“These young people have strange priorities.”

Shinji chuckled and Tatsuo was no longer inclined to deny that he’d missed the beta’s honest laugh. “They are posing in the temple’s garden now.” He held his phone up for Tatsuo to view. “See?”

There was a photo of them standing next to a tōrō, and another of them standing in front of a sculpted evergreen, and yet another of them standing in the shade of a pine tree. Shiro had sent both original and edited shots showing his attempts to use bokeh to disguise the busy city street just beyond the garden’s fence line.

“They are smiling,” said Tatsuo.

“What?” Shinji looked again. “They look quite serious to me.”

This from a man for whom a casual upturning of the lips was just his natural resting face.

“Look at their cheeks,” Tatsuo insisted. “They are dimpling.”

“Oh.” Shinji examined the image even closer. “Well, who can blame them. It is their wedding day.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
They’d finished their impromptu photo session in the temple garden, in which every family member who had managed to bring a camera applied their varying levels of skill to the task. Hunk had taken over the contract for Lubos’s event photographer for their afternoon ceremony and evening reception, but there hadn’t been room in the guy’s schedule to fit in their morning ceremony. If this had been the only ceremony of the day, then the next thing they would have done would have probably been to head over to a relative’s house for a backyard feast like the one Pappy had hosted for Mom and Chichi. That feast had gone down in the family annals, and Mom and Chichi still had the photo album to prove it. As things stood now, they had about three hours before their presence was required at the hotel to be ready in time for the afternoon ceremony, everybody was hungry, and Akane’s apartment was nowhere near big enough to host thirteen people for any kind of meal that didn’t involve significant risk to their expensive (and mostly rented) finery. 

Actually that was fourteen people since it would have been rude to order food for everybody but Mrs. Suzuishi, who was busily changing the outer layers of Keith’s outfit. Hunk suggested going back to the house in Culver City. His mom eighty-sixed that idea. 

“You should let your father and I do our part. You’re already hosting more of this than Pappy would have liked.”

“If we try to head down to Carson and back again we’re going to be cutting it really fine,” Hunk pointed out.

“I know a guy who runs an izakaya in the plaza,” Mrs. Suzuishi said after eavesdropping on their plight through the open bedroom door. “He’s got a private room in there, it’s usually only available for the dinner rush, but he owes me a favor.”

“You don’t mind using that favor up on us?” Keith asked suspiciously. 

He swayed slightly as Mrs. Suzuishi adjusted the iro-uchikake so that it draped about his form gracefully, giving the obi underneath a silhouette as if it were the most stylish backpack ever made. Unfolding against a backdrop of lucky red was a scene of paired cranes larking through a paradisaical garden beside a river. The wataboshi had been removed from his wig, revealing the golden floral ornaments (which Hunk had been personally reassured were not made out of an endangered species) so that they appeared as if they had escaped from the fantastical garden to twine in his hair. Which was not actually his hair, but it was so close to his natural hair color that it looked as if it could be, at first glance.

“I don’t mind,” Mrs. Suzuishi said. “All of you walking through the plaza and into the restaurant dressed like this is free advertisement for me.”

So they’d be even. Keith seemed satisfied with this answer. Hunk wasn’t mad at it either.

“Except this one should not walk too far if it can be helped.” Mrs. Suzuishi tucked the fan and kaiken back into Keith’s obi. She had changed out the white one for a gold one with a hexagon pattern on it. “One of you should drive him a little bit closer, I think.”

“That’ll be me,” Hunk said at once, earning a smile from Keith.

So it was Hunk who received the privilege of helping his laughing new bride into the front seat of the Crosstrek, which took a few tries because it sat lower to the ground than the Sequoia and Keith had a metric ton of trailing padded hems to deal with.

“Just open the moon roof babe, I’ll stand up in the back seat.”

“No, nope, I promise I got this.”

He adjusted the front passenger seat back as far as it would go and lowered Keith into it backwards. Keith smirked up at him from under that ornate wig as he held onto Hunk’s arms.

“You know, we don’t have to go to lunch with everybody. We could just go home.”

“I would so totally take you up on that, except that I am 99.999 percent sure that we’re going to need Mrs. Suzuishi’s help getting you out of that kimono, and I don’t want her in the bedroom with us when it goes down.”

Keith laughed again as Hunk helped him lever his legs and trailing hems into the floorboard and then buckled him in. They drove to the parking garage that served the plaza; a very short distance by car, but it would have been a mighty trek if they’d tried it on foot with Keith dressed like that. Hunk cruised the first level, not wanting Keith to have to navigate stairs if he could help it. They found Shiro standing in an empty spot next to the Sequoia, leaning nonchalantly with his elbow propped up on the open driver’s side door while a guy in a Bimmer with his reverse lights on honked at him.

“Shiro’s saving it for us babe, pull in,” Keith said, so Hunk hit his blinker and turned in. 

If this had been any other day he’d have been the bigger man and looked for another spot, but on this day his partner was wearing a good forty pounds or more of silk, some of it tightly wound around his body. Shiro obligingly shut the door and stood back out of the way as Hunk eased the Crosstrek up beside the Sequoia. The Bimmer’s driver hit his emergency brake and hauled himself partially out of the driver’s side window like one of them Duke boys. Hunk got out of the SUV, ready to put himself between this guy and Keith if need be.

“Hey guy, I feel you, but we had a really good reason,” Hunk started to explain, and was promptly interrupted as the other guy pointed at him, pompadour quaking in umbrage.

“I don’t care what your reason is, you’re breaking California Vehicle Code number– iyada!” Then the guy clambered back inside his vehicle and took off with the emergency brake still up and groaning in complaint as he squealed toward the exit.

“What’s his problem?” 

The guy’s eye line had gone over Hunk’s shoulder before his flip out turned to flight. Hunk turned to check on Keith, who was already standing out of the vehicle with Shiro’s assistance. The glossy swoops of his wig and milky nape of his neck immediately attracted the eye. Keith’s partial profile was like a crescent moon as he turned his head fractionally to watch the Bimmer’s taillights disappear into daylight.

“He’s a jerk,” Keith said with authority in his voice.

Hard to argue with that assessment.

The three of them attracted some attention on their promenade through the plaza, Hunk and Shiro flanking Keith in protective formation. Luckily it was still early enough in the day that most of the shoppers were locals who recognized the bridal array and respectfully nodded at them as they continued along their way. If it had been closer to peak shopping time they might have encountered tourists taking pictures, and Hunk knew that Keith did not appreciate having his photo taken if he didn’t know who the photographer was. 

The rest of their party was waiting for them when they arrived at the izakaya. They could hear Mrs. Suzuishi’s cackle all the way from the lantern-lit front entrance. The interior smelled wonderful thanks to the open kitchen, around which patrons sat at a wraparound bar. A young beta woman in shirtsleeves and a waist apron greeted them at the hostess stand, leading them past tables and booths to the private room.

That private room turned out to be a tatami room. They left their sandals in the shoe rack and stepped inside. As he helped Keith settle onto a zabuton cushion, Hunk saw that bowls of edamame had already been delivered to the table, along with a pitcher of draft beer and cups of sakura tea. Hunk’s mother passed the oshibori tray their way as he sat down next to Keith.

“First round’s on me,” Jin was telling the waitress, “we’ll start with some rainbow rolls.”

“Round of karaage on me,” Jiro jumped in.

“Next one will be on me,” Shiro piped up as he took a seat and a glass of beer. “Yakitori for the whole group.”

The waitress nodded and scribbled on her pad.

“Send some yaki onigiri on me after that,” Akane said. “We need to keep our nakōdo’s energy levels up so he can really belt it out at the reception.”

Shiro choked on his beer. “Belt it out?”

“Yeah!” Akane grinned. “Sing it so the people in the lobby can hear you!”

“It is the obligation of the nakōdo to sing a song and give a speech at the reception,” Mrs. Suzuishi said helpfully.

Shiro carefully set his beer back down on the low table and bowed in seiza. “Please excuse me for leaving the room, I have to blow my nose.” Off he went, practically leaving a Shiro-shaped puff of smoke in his wake.

Hina looked after him in concern. “He’s not gonna bail, is he?”

“Nope.” Keith, following his mother’s example, was folding his napkin into the collar fold of his kimono to protect the front. “Ten to one he’s calling Lance.”

Hunk reached for his beer. “I bet you’re right.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance sat in the master suite’s bathtub with one arm raised to denude (heh) his armpit of its happy brown fuzz. His freshly washed hair was swathed in a warm towel. The fragrant bubbles in the bath should leave his skin smooth and with a scent that would not be offensive to others. Driving with the top down in L.A. always carried the risk of smelling like smog by the end of the trip.

Still worth it.

On the edge of the marble surround, Lance’s cell phone rang a familiar tune, _♬ the reflex fle-fle-fle-fle-flex ♬_. He set the razor down to pick up the phone. “Hey baby, what are you wearing?”

_“I’m still wearing what you saw me in last.”_

“Are you alone?” Lance purred.

_“Yes I am, for the moment, and I need your help.”_

Okay, the words still said ‘phone sex emergency’ but the tone most definitely did not. “What’s up?”

_“They want me to give a speech!”_ Shiro sounded tense. Lance could imagine the little stress lines popping out between his eyebrows. _“And sing! They said it was part of a nakōdo’s responsibility!”_

“You got this, querido.” If this had been a business meeting he wouldn’t even be stressing, but it was family, which garnered a completely different reaction from him. Shiro was a man of endearing contradictions. “I know for a fact you can sing. Ave Maria, remember that?”

_“Of course I do, how could I forget.”_ Now Shiro sounded fond. 

“And you came up with that in what, a couple of hours?”

_“A little less time than that, actually.”_ There was a sigh on the other end of the line that told Lance that Shiro was beginning to let go of his tension.

“Don’t doubt yourself, querido. Because I don’t.”

_“Thank you, honey. I’ll figure out a song. What about the speech? I’ve never been asked to give a speech for something so personal before.”_

“Sure you have,” Lance reminded him. “Remember when you asked Mamá and Darryl for my hand in marriage?”

_“I remember vividly. But honey, that was a toast.”_

“Baby, at a wedding reception, a toast and a speech are six of one, half dozen of the other.” 

Lance remembered a perfect example of the principle in action, when Dorma’s brother Hazar had regaled a captive audience for twenty booze-fueled minutes at her backyard reception with Veronica. Come to think of it, Shiro was fully capable of doing the same or worse if filled with enough champagne and anxiety.

“Tell you what, I have to give a toast, so let’s take a few minutes to compare notes when you get back. You can tell me if my toast passes muster, and we can go over your speech at the same time, how about it?” Since he’d kind of gotten Shiro into the whole nakōdo situation in the first place it was the least he could do. 

_“That sounds perfect, honey, thank you. I’ll see you when I get back.”_

They traded sweet nothings and disconnected, and then Lance struck a pose in the tub. 

“I am the Wedding Whisperer.” 

Maybe he should think bigger than becoming a kickass makeup artist for events. He could headline a whole events empire! He could talk down the panic attacks of the stars while he applied their makeup and his assistants fetched everybody cortaditos! He dabbed and his towel fell off his head into the soapy water.

Maybe he should just focus on getting through this one event before he started planning any badass business empires.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Their lunch celebration ended with a round of red bean mochi ice cream and gratitude to the restaurant’s staff for their efforts, and then they parted company as they moved in the directions of their respective cars. Alana, Leia and Krolia were taking the van straight to the hotel, saying they needed to check in with the kitchen, and Mrs. Suzuishi was riding with them because Krolia needed her help getting changed out of her kurotomesode and into her Mother of the Bride dress. Hina would be right behind them with her kids because Lena also needed help with a change of clothes, while Hunk would be taking his father and cousin back to his place so that they could pick up his dad’s truck. Jiro and Akane would be following Hunk in her car and they were being mysterious enough about it that Shiro suspected that his own gift would not be the only major surprise at the reception. That left Keith, who would be returning to the hotel with Shiro so that his honor attendants could start attending to him.

Jin and Gorou fell back a few paces, so Shiro walked ahead to give Hunk and Keith a few precious minutes of privacy before the flurries of wedding activity resumed. As he approached the two SUVs parked side by side, he noticed an envelope wedged under the windshield wipers of the Subaru. Could the big-haired jerk have returned? Quickly, Shiro snatched up the envelope and hid it up his sleeve. Whatever that guy wanted, Shiro would deal with it later. Keith and Hunk had enough on their plate for this busy day.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The cake’s alternating layers of lilikoi and red velvet were filled with buttercream, coated with ganache, and covered in fondant, but there were just too many large tiers to safely assemble it away from the venue, and that wasn’t even taking the delicate sugar plumeria into consideration. Alana didn’t want to chance a loony tunes accident happening to that cake before it reached the reception, and Krolia and Leia were right there with her. So they’d brought the disassembled but otherwise complete cake to the hotel’s pastry chef, Olia, who had enthusiastically agreed to begin assembling the cake while they attended the first ceremony.

When she checked in with the kitchen, all of Alana’s fears over the cake were allayed. Olia had put the tiers together, doweled and boarded, and even gone a step beyond and hidden the seams with royal icing. Alana had originally intended to hide them with double-sided satin ribbons and the sugar plumeria, but with the royal icing doing the job so beautifully they could instead arrange the sprays of sugar plumeria in a cascade down the side of the cake, like a gradually building waterfall of petals.

“It’s so beautiful.” Alana felt teardrops gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“They’ll love it,” Leia insisted.

Alana impulsively hugged Olia, who patted her back good-naturedly as the others laughed.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You guys wait for my signal, alright?”

Jin stood in the driveway to Hunk and Keith’s place, leaning in the passenger side window of Akane’s car talking to his brother. Gorou was distracted inside collecting the clothing discarded in their morning rush to get dressed, and Hunk was distracted by Gorou. The clothes that had been thrown the most haphazardly had been Gorou’s, and Hunk understandably wanted that master bedroom pristine before they left. This turned out to be convenient for plotting out of their earshot.

“Don’t worry,” Jiro assured him. “We’re on the case.”

Then they sped off in Akane’s hot number of a Z car. It was a good thing those two had left the package closer to the venue, because Hunk was right: going all the way to South Bay and back would have been cutting it fine. Jin’s little bro had great ideas sometimes. He turned smiling to find Gorou standing on the porch with a garbage bag full of clothes. Hunk must be still inside roosting.

“They’re not coming with us?” Gorou asked as Jin approached the porch.

“They’ll meet us there,” Jin said, and then had a burst of inspiration of his own. “In the meantime, I have an important job for you.” He hopped up on the porch and gave Gorou a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Think you’re up for it?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Lance answered the door in his bathrobe, much to his new stepmother-in-law’s perturbation.

“Where is your propriety?” he asked as Lance carried a garment bag inside after tipping the delivery person. “You have retainers for this.”

“Not today,” Lance said calmly. “Everybody’s too busy, it’s all for one and one for all.” 

He swanned back to the master suite where he’d been interrupted at his toilette (how he was learning to love that word) when the front desk called. He currently had his phone on his person in a crossbody bandolier. Thank goodness the honor attendant frocks had pockets, he wouldn’t have to set it aside for a while yet. That phone was practically becoming an extra appendage.

“Lance!” Kuro ran up behind him as he entered the sanctuary of the bedroom. “Will you please do my hair?” 

Kuro was already dressed except that he had bedroom slippers on his feet, the adorable cartoon lion faces peeking out from under orange chiffon. His clean hair was a loose fragrant cloud about his shoulders and he carried kanzashi in his hands. Red and orange hibiscus formed of resin and wire made a lovely match to the wedding’s color scheme. The kid had a great eye. If the dancing thing didn’t work out, Lance would gladly welcome him into his event aesthetics empire.

“Come on in Lindo, I’ve gotcha covered.”

Kuro bounced in behind him, and Lance wondered for a second if Tatsuo would storm in after them, but that didn’t happen. Tatsuo’s recent moods had been like rain bands at the end of a squall line; still arising suddenly, but with the sense that the worst was already over. Shinji was happier and Kuro seemed more relaxed around his mother. Even Tatsuo himself seemed quick to let his occasional heat bursts cool to a calmer demeanor, as if he didn’t really want to be mad but it was hard to break the habit.

“Have yourself a seat on the bench, I’ll hop up on the bed behind you.” 

Lance hooked the garment bag on the clothes rack over bathroom door on his way to retrieve Shiro’s pomade. When he turned back around Kuro was gazing at the garment bag thoughtfully from his seat on the bedroom bench.

“That is one of the suits Keith tried on.”

Lance smiled. The garment bag had a plastic window that was just big enough to see the glitter of red sequins. The kid had a really good eye.

“Yup.”

“But, was that not one of the suits which Keith rejected?”

“Only because it didn’t suit the purpose.”

Keith had adjudged it had too much bling and too much black for standing next to a bride, but he had liked it. Lance could tell. So when he had spoken to Keith’s mom and mother-in-law the previous afternoon to get a better sense of his itinerary and found out that his last outfit of the day was supposed to be another formal kimono, he had asked, _“You remember how there’s gonna be dancing at the end? People are gonna be trying to do the funky chicken and the cupid shuffle and stuff like that. Can he do that in a formal kimono?”_

Haruka and Kuro had both mentioned that the higher the formality of the kimono, the more dignified the expected behavior while wearing it. There was nothing dignified about the novelty dances that were popular at weddings. The two moms’ response to that issue had been a hastily made plan for rustling Keith back into his second bridal frock so that he’d be more comfortable boogieing with his guests at the reception.

His second bridal frock that he was wearing as a favor, and not because he loved it. Lance couldn’t think of a single reason why Keith shouldn’t sparkle like a star on his big day, and luckily Mister Graysen at Terra hadn’t sold the sparkly tux yet and still had Keith’s measurements on file.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
In spite of the fact that they were jockeying through heavy weekday traffic and he couldn’t sit all the way back into the chair in which he was buckled for fear of crushing his obi, Keith was enjoying the drive back to the hotel. The Sequoia’s passenger seat was large and plush, the climate control in the vehicle was keeping the temperature perfectly comfortable, and the company was putting him at ease. Shiro was an accomplished conversationalist once he got over his initial reaction to finding unexpected family. Keith found the juxtaposition between his Mister Big Stuff persona and the more poetic soul underneath it to be marvelously entertaining; and the more he loosened up, the more of Shiro’s dry sense of humor emerged from behind his chivalrous manners.

It was also nice to spend time in the company of someone who knew about his past and didn’t actively avoid bringing it up while speaking with him. He loved how protectively his new in-laws had enfolded him within their midst without giving him or Hunk any shit whatsoever about it, but their seeming consensus of his young adulthood as ‘lost years’ was giving him a complex. Maybe he’d wandered off the beaten path and taken a few back roads, but he sure as hell hadn’t been lost, and he couldn’t help but notice that his new cousin never treated him like there was an unspoken gap in his history, either. Now if Shiro could just get over his obvious guilt over events he couldn’t change and probably couldn’t have done much about even if he’d known, then they could both truly relax and appreciate having another relative out there in the big woolly world. Keith dared to let his weight sink back against the cushy captain’s chair and felt the two layer drum knot under his uchikake start to flatten against his back.

Outside of the vehicle, the sky opened up and a deluge came down. Not really a deluge, just a shower, but to hundreds of drivers sharing their stretch of freeway it might as well have been a flood of Biblical proportions as brake lights lit up like a string of Christmas twinklers. Seconds later they were in gridlock.

“Don’t worry, Keith.” Shiro’s profile was a study in determination as he started tapping on the Sequoia’s onboard GPS. “I’ll get you there on time. Whatever it takes.”

It was ridiculously cute how sweet Shiro could be when he wanted to, but Keith was a lifelong Angeleno who’d always thought of curfews as more of a suggestion than a rule. He was way better than any GPS.

“Get in the exit lane,” Keith said, “and stay to the right.” He pointed out the exit sign on an overpass up ahead. “I know another way to get us there from here that shouldn’t slow us down too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a good time to mention that I did a lot of research, but I also took a lot of liberties. I figured in a world where secondary genders exist, other things would be different too.
> 
> Also, I accidentally mislabeled some of my chapter numbers in the original document, and I just realized that I actually have 22 complete chapters, not 23. Because I goofed, I am going to use the 23rd 'chapter' to publish a short excerpt from the sequel to this fic. Which I have already started writing because when it comes to the writing part I have the patience of Bae Bae with a hot dog on the end of her nose.


	19. Stereo Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding part two: ballroom boogaloo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous going out to everybody who has kept reading, as well as all the kudos and the comments! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, Silly_JillyBean, luminiferousaether and Drowning_Slowly!
> 
> The contents of the letter will come out chapter after this one.

  
“I got a sawbuck in it for you if you bring the car back around quiet like.”

The skinny valet was not in the least bit intimidated or impressed. “Where are you from, 1897?”

Gorou’s broad shoulders drooped. He was a lover, not a fighter. “Listen, I’ve been asked to help decorate the getaway car, but that’s gonna be kind of hard to do if I don’t have access to the car.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Skinny Valet unhooked a cell phone from his belt holster. “Let me call up the other honor attendants and then I’ll take you guys to where the bossman parks his ride.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The ballroom’s backstage area had two dressing rooms: one for omegas, and the other for everybody else. The omega’s dressing room was much smaller, but it made up for its close quarters with plush carpeting, cushioned benches, and dress form mannequins standing in front of floor-to-ceiling gilt mirrors. The ‘everybody else’ dressing room was more spacious. It had to be, it was literally for everybody else. It was carpeted in practical low pile, with rolling garment racks parked next to wall-hugging mirrored vanities, and dozens of vinyl-padded folding chairs scattered hither and yon.

In the omega dressing room, the ductwork was hidden behind soffits. In the ‘everybody else’ dressing room, it was out in the open. Hunk supposed that was why Coran and Mrs. Suzuishi didn’t realize that he could hear them at the volume with which they were addressing one another.

“I should go deal with that,” he said, stopped from stepping away in the middle of being dressed only by his father’s firm hand on his shoulder.

“You should leave them to it,” Mr. Suzuishi said as he adjusted the pleats of Hunk’s wedding cravat. “It has been a long time since my wife has been issued a challenge to her dressing room supremacy. She could use the vocal exercise.”

“It’s alright son, I’m texting Shay,” Jin said, and then another, fainter sound reached all of their ears.

_Pat pat pat patpatpatpatpat._

“Is it raining outside?” Hunk asked. Keith might still be out there, and they had guests arriving any minute!

Jin patted his son’s shoulder. “Count your blessings son, it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day!”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Raindrops noisily pelted the shelter of the parking garage as three honor attendants finished attaching tulle and garlands of artificial flowers across the hood of the Subaru while a fourth applied the ‘just married’ decal to the rear windshield. It was lucky that Hunk used the parking garage like the rest of his employees, and luckier still that Shay had been able to talk Gorou out of covering the paint job with shaving cream. A congratulations flag fluttered from the antenna, and bows decorated the door handles, luggage rack and exterior rear-view mirrors. Everything looked perfect. There was just one problem now that was maybe not so lucky for the honor attendants.

“How are we going to get back inside the hotel?” Kuro asked, echoing the concern they all had. The walk back would have been no sweat if it wasn’t raining outside, but since it was, they were all risking a soaking at a most inopportune time.

All except for Haruka, who had taken it upon herself to oversee organization of the guest book and gift tables to her exacting standards, and was therefore still inside safe and dry.

“I suppose we could hang out here for a few minutes and see if the rain lets up,” Shay suggested, right before her cell phone chimed. 

She took the phone out of her suit pocket. She was dressed in a suit like the groomsmen, but instead of an orange tie, she had on an orange notch-collared blouse. Her dark hair was artfully twirled into triple braided buns that Lance was itching to tuck flowers into, but he understood why she had chosen to leave them unadorned: it would have made her stand out too much from the rest of the groom’s party. The bride wasn’t the only one who was supposed to have the focus be on them.

“Oh dear,” she said.

Gorou looked over her shoulder and read aloud, “Coran is here. Please come break up dressing room fight or there will be Groomzilla.”

“I have to get over there,” Shay said. “Maybe I can use to hotel laundry to dry off my clothes.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Lance rummaged in his frock’s pocket and pulled out keys. “I was gonna hand these over to Shiro when he came back. Thanks Shinji, Past Me, and whoever chose the frock with pockets!” He and Shinji had self-parked the Camaro because they just hadn’t wanted to get out any sooner than absolutely necessary.

“You’re parked in this garage?” Shay sounded hopeful.

Lance nodded. “One level up. We’ll drive back to the valet and have Bii-Boh-Bi repark it for us.” Their clothes and coifs were saved, but whoever sat in the backseat was going to have be uncomfortable for a minute, because everybody in the group had long legs and that backseat was not big.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro coasted through residential streets at Keith’s direction. He didn’t know this area well, so he had to trust that Keith wasn’t lost. It wasn’t easy for him to relinquish control to anyone, much less to someone with a face that was so difficult to read sometimes, but after the whole stag night fiasco Shiro was determined to let Keith know that he trusted in his capabilities.

Even though a part of him still wanted to be a bigshot and mobilize a security detail to give them a motorized escort.

They rolled past modernist homes, and delivery truck drivers using the rain as a reason to take a smoke break. The Mid-Wilshire neighborhood was starting to actually look a little familiar, and then Shiro spotted a two-storey Italianate building which he recognized on sight.

“Look Keith, it’s the Ebell!” 

He’d once caught a production of I Can Get It For You Wholesale in that theater. He was supposed to attend with Lotor, who had begged off and set him up with an omega ‘friend of a friend’ at the last minute. Some handsome young thing named Raible with shark eyes in a porcelain doll face. Shiro recalled more of the musical than the date, and he was kind of embarrassed about that now. He glanced to the side at Keith and found him looking back with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you seriously think I was lost?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Nadia stalked backstage to the A/V room where a number of employees were setting up for the wedding, and the rest were hiding out from one of the bridesmaids. “We got a sitrep?”

“Paper lanterns still test out fine by remote,” Daigo said. “Uplighting, color wash and three point lighting are also a go and the sound system checks out, but I have a question for you on that last part.”

Nadia’s instincts had been telling her there had to be something. “Lay it on me.”

“What are we using for the prelude music?”

They believed they’d thought of everything. Processional music: covered. Recessional music: got that too. Ambient music for the cocktail hour: handled, and dinner too. The DJ’s playlist was also now confirmed to be covered.

The DJ! Nadia ripped her cell phone free from its holster and hit speed dial.

_“Hey lady, what’s going on?”_ There was the sound of excited children in the background.

“Hina, I need your help. We just realized we forgot to pick a song for the prelude when the guests are being seated.” 

Some of the guests had already arrived and promptly descended upon the bar at the pool and the lounge that was open before happy hour. Those guests would shortly be wandering around in the Wintergarden like cats coming down from anesthesia. They needed a musical cue to catch their attention so that they’d be ready when the ushers let them into the ballroom, but it shouldn’t be anything that could agitate people, regardless of if they were tipsy or sober. The last thing they needed to happen was for a scuffle to break out and get posted to social media as one of those infamous wedding brawls.

_“Don’t worry,”_ Hina said. _“It just so happens I’ve got an emergency backup song we can use for that.”_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hina finished working out the details with Nadia and Daigo while she waited for Ser Coran to finish making sure the bow in her child’s hair was on point. Lena had the Seidou hairline; even worn chin-length, her hair was constantly trying to fall forward into her eyes, so they’d decided to go with a wide satin ribbon as a headband. The vanity tables in the main dressing room were better suited to such a task than the setup in the omega dressing room. This was a good thing because it was the only way to keep peace between Coran and Mrs. Suzuishi until the rest of the wedding party showed up.

So far they had Keith’s mom getting ready in the omega dressing room, and most of his bridal party plus Gorou and Shay supposedly already on the premises somewhere. Mom and Aunt Leia had nominated themselves as cake table setup advisors, so they were still with Olia and her team. In the main dressing room, Lena sat at a vanity table while her brother made googly faces in the mirror behind her to try to wind her up. Akane was getting changed behind a privacy screen to walk her cousin down the aisle, and Hunk was wearing a hole in the carpet while Chichi and Uncle Jiro looked on with beers they’d brought over from the pool bar.

Hina sidled over to the privacy screen. “Hey.”

“Yo,” came from the other side of the screen, along with rustling sounds.

“Do you have an ETA on Keith?”

“Yeah, kinda.” More rustling sounds. “He’s trending on Twitter– ” 

Again?

“ –so I’ve been keeping an eye on that. Latest twit pic shows they’re almost here.” A hand with a red cell phone in it appeared from behind the screen.

Hina took the phone, which had the Twitter app open with a filtered image search. She thumbed one of the pictures full screen. It was Keith and his honor attendant Lance in a convertible with the top down on the 10, both of them captured mid-whoop. The picture had been memed. PARTY OMEGA 2: MORNING BOOGALOO.

Man, the internet worked fast. Hina sorted the timeline for the most recent pics. She found an image of Keith in his iro-uchikake sitting next to Shiro in an SUV traveling down a rain-glistened road that looked like Miracle Mile. Keith had on the most marvelous RBF Hina had ever beheld, they should get that picture matted and framed it was so perfect. So transfixed was she that she didn’t notice the little circle twirling in the bottom corner until it finished loading what turned out to be a GIF with a sound clip.

_♬ IT’S LIKE RAI-EEE-AIIIIN ON YOUR WEDDING DAY ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_The rumor comes out: does Takashi Shirogane intend on gathering a harem?_

French-tipped fingers flew over the gossip blogger’s keyboard as she composed the post and added pictures culled from social media. 

_Here are two omegas we know about: the Cuban cutie who has been seen around town wearing his courting necklace, and the former flame from California who may still carry a torch for Manhattan’s most incorrigible bachelor._

She added several more images, including a couple of recently taken pictures which put the two together in the same place at the same time.

_But who is the mystery man in these pictures? He must be important, because here he is with Shirogane himself, wearing what reliable sources tell me is a wedding dress from his native land!_

She added that last image. The coup de grâce.

_One thing is certain: this bride sure doesn’t look happy! ♡ Remember you saw it here first sweeties! ♡_

Amue Herakles leaned back in her task chair, stretching the kinks out of her neck and back. Then she rose from the desk and went to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and stood admiring the killer view of Central Park outside her high-rise apartment’s floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun was just beginning its day’s descent, turning the skyline to gold over treetops in full autumn foliage.

Amue tried to count her blessings. She had a trust fund and a lucrative past time, and as many chatty acquaintances as she needed to keep that past time going indefinitely. She was genetically blessed with physical beauty and rich enough to keep herself that way until such a time as she chose to let age gracefully catch up with her. She appreciated the perks, she truly did. It’s just that she would have appreciated them more with a handsome, charming husband on her arm and in her bed.

For a time she’d thought she had that nailed down. Her older brother Samson, the only alpha, insisted she marry well or not at all, since their younger brother Alor, the only omega, had gotten himself into trouble and then ran away to California wine country to live with eccentric Aunt Hys on her vineyard estate instead of going to a private hospital where a private adoption would have made that problem disappear. The family name couldn’t tolerate another scandal, and for some damn reason the family’s fortunes were riding on her loins while Samson frittered away his prime courting years trying to become a prime player on Wall Street. She’d thought she was destined for a boring marriage of convenience, until she met Takashi Shirogane. Shiro had ticked all the necessary boxes and then some: handsome, well-bred, well-mannered, well-educated, well-connected, well-dressed, and very wealthy.

So he had a knot. So what. There were ways for betas to get around the knot issue, it was hardly a deal breaker.

Then he’d ghosted her, and the next thing she knew he’d taken up with that San Francisco treat named Matthew Holt. If he preferred male omegas that much, he could just have told her that to begin with instead of making her waste so much of her precious time on him. And then, to add insult to injury, she’d had to live down a one night stand with that lech Lotor Manigford, who would have been a tolerable suitor if not for the fact that he was already married and not looking for a divorce as he’d initially claimed he was. Another mammoth waste of her time.

Anger renewing its fire in her breast, Amue clutched her wine to her chest as she fairly flew back to her desk, shiny blonde locks bouncing against her back, high heels stamping the wool carpet. Normally she would spend a little more time noodling with her entries before posting, but with Shiro her journalistic objectivity was often overwritten by how pissed off at him she still was. She would make him rue the day he crossed her off his list.

She posted the blog entry and felt her ire begin to ebb as her view count rose. Then watched as countless commenters piled on to inform her that the bride wasn’t supposed to be smiling in that last photo, she shouldn’t post without using a fact checker first, those pictures were already on the internet before she even posted, blah blah blahbitty blah. Like her own efforts at spinning context out of threads of mined data didn’t add value to the conversation.

She rolled her eyes and tossed back her wine. It was just whatever.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
When they arrived at the valet station, there was a familiar set of brake lights ahead of them. Keith felt gratified as he watched four honor attendants climb out of the Camaro. That soft shade of orange had been a great choice for his attendants. It was extremely flattering to Kuro’s skin tone and it made Lance’s eyes pop like wild blue pimpernels. It also went well with what Hunk’s attendants were wearing.

Bii-Boh-Bi eagerly took the Camaro’s keys out of Lance’s hands, leaving Wolo to approach the driver’s side of the SUV to speak to Shiro. The Camaro’s disembarked passengers had noticed who pulled in behind them, and paused at the door. Lance came back toward the SUV with Kuro at his back. Shay smiled and waved at Keith and then hurried on inside like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Gorou looked between them a few times before deciding to follow Shay.

“Hey!” Lance opened the passenger side door and reached up to help Keith down. “Shay had to go defuse some egos in the dressing rooms, she’ll be sorry she missed the full technicolor view of this outfit.”

｢You look like a princess｣ Kuro said in awe as Keith hit the sidewalk in all of his silk-clothed majesty.

“Thanks guys.” It was always nice to hear compliments like that, but especially when they came from people who didn’t have any reason to want to butter him up. “I really need to get this wig off me now, it weighs over two pounds and I’m feeling it.” He noticed a familiar glazed expression in Lance’s eyes as he looked over Keith’s shoulder where the fading sound of a motor signaled that Wolo was driving the SUV away, presumably leaving Shiro standing alone under the awning. “You can be horny later, Lance.”

He heard Shiro start laughing behind him as Kuro blushed and Lance just smiled and shrugged. Lance and Kuro then escorted Keith into the lobby as Shiro promised to catch up with them after he returned Shinji’s formalwear to him and got changed into a suit.

Starstruck stares followed Keith as he glided toward the ballroom with Lance and Kuro breezing along on either side of him. He was not used to being an object of such open admiration while he had so many clothes on, except from Hunk, and occasionally Lance. It made him feel like a fairy godparent must have waved a magic wand over him and given him a vacation in Opposite Land. 

There would be no sprinkle of fairy dust so he could twirl into a change of clothes here, however. When they arrived backstage the battle of which Lance had spoken had barely been put to rest before Keith’s appearance gave it fresh ammunition. People came out of nowhere to swamp the narrow hallway outside the dressing rooms, as if their mere presence could effect the outcome of the rather pointless argument. Lance and Kuro got so squeezed in they were practically bear-hugging Keith to keep a zone of familiar omega scents around him.

“Listen up!” Keith hollered.

Everyone stopped talking, arguers and would-be mediators alike.

“Mrs. Suzuishi is going to help me get out of this kimono because she knows what she’s doing with that.”

Mrs. Suzuishi nodded. Coran’s mustache quivered.

“And Coran is going to help me get into Tutu’s gown, because he knows what he’s doing with that.”

Mrs. Suzuishi crossed her arms. Coran’s eyes sparkled as his smile returned.

“And somebody’s gonna get me out of this wig and fix my hair.”

“I’m on it,” Lance said.

Keith had no freaking clue why those two nitwits were arguing about who got the privilege of changing his clothes in the first place. The last time anything remotely similar had happened to him, it had been two drunk alphas in a bidding war for a whole evening alone with him in the champagne room. Keith doubted either Mrs. Suzuishi or Coran had any interest in finding out whether he had any tattoos in intimate places.

(As it so happened though, he didn’t.)

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Your fella’s got a set of lungs on him,” said Jiro.

“He took control of that crowd in no time.” Jin sounded impressed.

Coran and Mrs. Suzuishi were both big personalities who took a lot of pride in their knowledge and skills. Shay had just managed to get them to chill enough to share the same dressing room when peace negotiations broke down again over the arrival of the main source of their unforeseen rivalry: Keith, and the chance to dress him up like a life-size fashion doll. Hunk had wrested the dressing room door open only to discover the hallway filled with people who must have run across the stage from all corners of the ballroom to do... He was going to hold a mandatory meeting sometime in the very near future to find out just what in the hell it was they thought they were going to do, and make sure they knew not to do that again. However, it turned out that Hunk hadn’t needed to knock people out of his way like bowling pins because Keith had dealt with the situation like a boss.

“He’s the strongest person I know,” Hunk said honestly.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Ryan stood in front of the cheval mirror in their bedroom, straightening his dark blue tie until Matt couldn’t stand to watch him loosen and retie it one more time and swatted his hands out of the way.

“Our suits are not the same shade of navy blue,” Ryan said while Matt looped his tie into a Half Windsor knot.

“You’re over thinking it dear.” 

It was a little-known truth that alphas were perfectly capable of being just as vain as any other dynamic in certain situations. Situations such as being asked to socialize with people who’d recently seen them behaving at less than their mannerly best. Matt’s three piece suit might indeed be a little more midnight and a little less indigo than Ryan’s two piece suit, but he was confident they’d still blend and not clash.

“We’d look more like a unit if we had on the same tie.”

“Darling.” Matt patted the tie against Ryan’s chest and then patted his smooth-shaven cheek. “Black tie optional means I definitely don’t have to wear a tie.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Colleen applied a coat of peach lipstick and fluffed her short hair in the bathroom. That sales associate from the clearance racks had done her a solid. He’d sold her a knee-length darted cocktail dress in an orange paisley that had enough purple and green in it so that she’d avoided the fate of looking as if she was just rolling in from an all-night Halloween party. He’d tried to convince her to pair it with platform heels, but she’d opted for low-heeled pumps. At five foot eleven she didn’t need additional height, she’d much prefer to be comfortable.

There was a knock on the door, a staccato rap that was typical of Pidge, but out of a longtime habit she had no intention of breaking, Colleen looked through the peephole anyway. When she saw her daughter’s wild tresses she opened the door to let her in. Pidge looked up and much to Colleen’s wonderment, she was actually wearing makeup under that unkempt mane.

“Come on in Katie, I’ll run a brush through your hair for you before we go.” Colleen turned and went back into the bathroom for her vent brush.

“You look like the mom from the Partridge Family,” was Pidge’s response as she followed her mother into the hotel room.

“Since she was widely regarded as a hottie in her day, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Colleen found the brush and turned around and then got her first proper look at what her daughter was wearing. “Where is your bra young lady?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“Querido, can you please bring down my styling creme when you bring my makeup bag?” 

Lance stood watching Mrs. Suzuishi unravel Keith from his layers. The wig had been removed from his head, and he was in full grump over the state that the mesh he’d worn underneath had left of his hair. Lance knew he could tame that mess into an updo and put a smile back on his face, but he needed product. So he’d called Shiro, who had already gotten out of his kimono with help from Shinji and was presently back in the penthouse suiting up.

_“Of course honey. We still have to go over our speeches together, remember?”_

That’s right! They still needed to devote a minute toward preventing either one of them from flailing helplessly on the microphone in front of a couple hundred people. “I remember, and I’ll be waiting for you here in the dressing room area.”

_“Do you guys need anything else from up here?”_

Lance turned to the rest of the room, which currently included, in addition to Keith and Mrs. Suzuishi, Krolia and Kuro. Krolia had changed into a red goddess gown to complement the himation-inspired frocks the bride’s honor attendants were wearing, and she looked like a goddess in it. If Lance wasn’t already married he’d have been flirting up a storm. Maybe he better remind Shiro he was a married man before he walked her down the aisle.

“Anybody need anything? Shiro can bring it for us.”

“Ask Ani if he will bring the rest of my kanzashi,” Kuro said.

That idea was positively inspired. Kuro had brought a bunch of kanzashi into the master suite with him, but in the end they’d only used two to secure his hair into a chignon. They could use the other three on Keith’s hair and it would look like they’d planned it that way. It was total serendipity.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
_“Tell Matthew that matching patterned pocket squares would really tie our look together.”_

Colleen had called up her son to check their getting ready status and inadvertently gotten herself involved in a marital dilemma. This time it wasn’t her fault.

_“Tell Ryan that plain white pocket squares are perfectly fine for black tie optional, and anyway where are we going to find matching patterned ones at the last minute?”_

Actually... “You know, I met the most helpful sales associate at a store near your house and if you drop by there I bet he can find a bra for your sister, too.”

“Mom!”

“Hang on a minute, I’ll just call over there and see if he’s working.”

She tapped the ‘add a call’ icon and dialed the number on her receipt. After an interminable time dealing with the store’s IVR while her children made fun of it, a receptionist finally came on the line and tried to talk right over her.

_“No ma’am, we don’t have personal shoppers at this location, you have to go on Instacart and order through one of the locations that has a grocery.”_

“Why don’t you just put Raymond on the line.”

_“We don’t have any managers named Raymond.”_

“Not your manager.” Although that possibility, now that it had been presented, sounded attractive. “The sales associate who helped me last night. I think his name was Raymond.” It had actually sounded kind of like he was calling himself Ray Moon which fit with the hippy dippy look he had going on, but she hadn’t wanted to assume.

_“You... you saw Raimon?”_ There was a gasp. _“On Halloween night?!”_

“What, was he not supposed to be working then?” Maybe he’d been doing unauthorized overtime. “Listen, I don’t want to get him in trouble, he was really nice to me– ”

_“This lady saw Raimon on Halloween night!”_ The receptionist was not even speaking into the receiver anymore, the shrieking coming from a near distance and soon joined by other shrieks and gasps and someone reciting Psalm 23.

“If you don’t know how to help me, you could just say so instead of being all melodramatic about it.” Colleen hung up on the store and accidentally hung up on her son as well.

“You tell ‘em Mom.” Pidge had discovered the fruit plate and was busy popping grapes into her mouth, kicked back in the wing chair with her feet up on the desk chair. “How’d you rate one of these fruit basket things?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” Colleen stared down her younger child with her arms crossed. “It’s almost like the hotel’s general manager knew exactly who I was and why I was here when I’d barely even checked in and sorted my luggage.”

There was only one likely suspect in her mind for who had given Garrett the tip off.

Pidge gulped down a grape and coughed. “That manager must be really on the ball.” She jumped up out of the wing chair. “I was meaning to ask you, can you show me how to do a waltz without looking at my feet?”

Suspicion confirmed. Katie might think a spur of the moment dance lesson was going to distract her mother, but she’d learn that when Colleen had a hold of both of her arms she’d have no way to avoid her questions.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The plan to get Keith into Tutu’s gown started off great. Coran’s alterations team had successfully taken in the gown to fit Keith like a glove, with neatly finished seams and without changing the overall design. The new blue shoes that laced up his calves looked just right whenever the occasional glimpse appeared under the sweep of the hem. It was when they tried to tape the off-the-shoulder ruffle so that it would stay off the shoulder that they encountered a snafu that nobody had seen coming: contact dermatitis. Keith didn’t have any heavy metal allergies, but acrylic adhesive said ‘not so fast buster.’

“But I thought you used fashion tape before?” Lance gently rubbed at the spot of irritated skin with some colloidal oatmeal lotion that Krolia had been carrying in her purse. 

“Not on my skin I didn’t,” Keith confessed as he held a ruffle out of the way for Lance’s ministrations. “Whenever I had clothes that didn’t fit I’d usually either ask you to fix them, or just cut them up until they did fit.”

“I’m sorry sweetie,” Krolia said, adding her soothing scent from Keith’s other side. “You probably got it from me. Sensitive skin runs in my family, I should’ve known this could happen.”

Since she’d been the one with the foresight to bring the oatmeal lotion that was making Keith’s red spot disappear, Lance felt like she was being too hard on herself. He also felt like ‘Keith doesn’t use fashion tape’ was basic information that he should have noticed the significance of before that very moment, since they’d roomed together and shared clothes so often. After all, they hadn’t been too broke to stretch their budget toward fashion tape all of the time, only most of the time. Sure, needle and thread were cheaper and more practical with Lance’s skill set, but fashion tape was a lot faster, and Keith had a deep and abiding appreciation for things that were faster.

“It’s alright lad,” Coran said as he rummaged through his kit. “I’ll just pin the ruffle into a bertha collar like the one on Lena’s gown. Nobody will be able to see the pins, it will look like it was sewn that way.”

“My shoulders were supposed to be bare.” Keith looked perturbed bordering on cranky. Could he have been looking forward to wearing this gown more than anybody realized? His shoulders were truly outstanding, so it made sense he’d want to wear something that showed them off.

There was a knock on the door. “Maybe we could sew straps on to hold the ruffles off the shoulder?” Lance went to the door and opened it to Shiro, who had arrived with the hair and makeup supplies. “That wouldn’t take too long.”

“I don’t want the gown to look different than it was supposed to look!” Yep, Keith was definitely starting to get cranky.

“Problems?” Shiro asked. He’d just grabbed the whole travel kit that had Lance’s hair and makeup bags in it. 

Lance opened it up and found the kanzashi stashed in the middle pocket. “The off-the-shoulder neckline won’t stay off the shoulder without help, but it turns out we can’t use fashion tape on Keith’s skin.”

“Should we get him a new gown?” 

Shiro had that 'comin' to save you' glint in his eye. Lance didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d try to have a designer gown airlifted straight from Kleinfeld’s if that’s what it took to solve this fashion emergency.

“I want to wear this gown,” Keith insisted. “But I wanted it to be off-the-shoulder like it was supposed to be, and now I can’t without changing it.” His voice had gone scratchy with frustration. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Hunk’s mom eased past Shiro in the doorway to get into the crowded omega dressing room. “You don’t have to worry about changing the gown, I should have made that more clear from the beginning.” She rubbed his back and now Keith's mother and mother-in-law were both scenting him. “Keith, that gown had a high neckline before my mother wore it, and long lace sleeves before I wore it. You can feel free to make your mark on it. It’s kind of a tradition.”

“I won’t even mind if you change it into a bikini,” came Hina’s voice from around the corner.

Lena peeked around the omega dressing room doorway. “If you change it into a bikini please save the extra cloth so I can use it for my turn.”

“We did save the cloth we removed for this alteration,” Coran said, “no worries there.”

Keith eyed Coran. “You have it with you?”

“Of course.”

Keith turned to Lance. “You can add straps.”

“Affirmative.”

“I can help you make the straps,” Kuro piped up.

“I have a handheld sewing machine in my kit,” Coran added.

“I have white satin ribbons that I didn’t need to use on the cake,” said Alana.

“Awesome.” Keith got his mojo back. “Let’s rock this.”

So they did. Lance pulled up the playlist on his phone that he’d originally intended for Keith’s bachelor party, and they rocked it out like a bridal style 80's montage. Shiro and Hina took up guard positions just outside the door, snippets of their conversation carrying past the music from Lance’s phone whenever someone slipped in or out of the room. Coran used his measuring tape across Keith’s shoulders while Lance ran some product through Keith’s hair. Kuro and Coran measured and cut fabric and satin ribbon while Lance folded and tucked Keith’s hair into a diagonal French braid. 

Kuro then decorated the carefully loosened plait with kanzashi while Lance helped Coran make rouleau straps. They stitched the ribbons they were using as cording to one end of each fabric strap, so that when they turned them inside out they could use the ribbons as ties to make the straps adjustable and easy to unfasten. They had to get Keith out of the gown again to finish adding straps and loops to the inside lining, so while they were using one of the dress form mannequins to do that, Keith threw on a robe and had Shiro escort him to the restrooms and back. Haruka was with them when they returned.

“Are we late?” Keith asked when he came back into the room. “I feel like we’re late.”

“A little bit,” Krolia said as she and Coran helped him step back into the finished gown. “Don’t worry, sweetie. They can’t start without the bride.”

“Being fashionably late is a bride’s prerogative,” Coran agreed.

“Let me see your pretty face,” Lance said, while Keith stood still and let his mother and Coran fasten him into the gown. Whatever Krolia and Mrs. Suzuishi had put on him earlier was holding up really well, but this new look called for something dewier. He rifled through his makeup bag and decided to go with highlighting sticks and setting spray, and added another coat of waterproof mascara.

“Oh my,” Krolia said, when Keith was fully dressed. “Oh, don’t you look beautiful.” She smiled in a way that made her resemblance to Keith even more pronounced than usual. “Again.”

Murmurs of agreement went up around the room. Lance slipped over to the door and peered out. Shiro was right there, looking back at him.

“He’s ready,” Lance said, then leaned up to whisper in Shiro’s ear, “meet me down here after the ceremony.”

“Will do.” He winked and then he and Hina walked off toward the dressing room where the groomsmen were waiting. Krolia excused herself from the bridal dressing room shortly thereafter, as she would need to be ready for Shiro to walk her to her seat to start the processional.

Lance listened at the door with Haruka right over his shoulder. The bridal party had to wait for the groom to be safely in the wings and out of sight before they could sneak off to the loggia and get ready for their grand entrance. As the expected mutter of mostly alpha voices passed by the cracked door, music as lulling as a warm bath washed over the scene, and then they heard Hunk say, “Hina, really?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Tatsuo had once again donned his aster purple visiting kimono, despite that the ceremony was being held in a setting and style that did not require it. “They are Nikkei-jin,” he had said, as if that explained his choice completely and nothing further need be said about it. Although he suspected that the Garretts identified as proudly hapa, Shinji didn’t say so, as he felt himself to be the beneficiary. Tatsuo always looked exceptionally elegant in kimono. Even other guests waiting for the ushers to seat them were discreetly admiring him.

“Tell me something, Shinji-san.” Tatsuo looked upon Shinji with a contemplative expression.

“Anything, Tatsuo-san.”

“The song they are playing as they seat us for this wedding.” Tatsuo cocked his head. “The lyrics are about amorous rodents, am I hearing it correctly?”

Shinji allowed himself the smile so that he would not laugh outright. “It would seem so. Songs with elements of whimsy are somewhat of a wedding tradition everywhere are they not? The Ladybug Samba is a whimsical song.”

Tatsuo’s eyebrows raised in clear question of Shinji’s faculties. “That comparison is so far-fetched that I know you are not speaking seriously to me right now.”

Tatsuo could still sweep aside Shinji’s evasions as easily as a fan scatters smoke, so this time he did not attempt to hide his laugh.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Hunk waited in the wings for his honor attendants to return from helping the staff seat their many guests in the ballroom. Family and friends both old and new were waiting out there; both Hunk’s and Keith’s. Keith’s mother and cousin had cajoled him into inviting people who had known his father, as well as people he’d grown up around, and a great many of them had RSVP’d yes. The Wintergarden would be standing room only for any on-duty staff who managed to sneak away long enough to be in attendance. Hunk had been cheerfully assured that they’d fill the place up.

The tiny seat-of-the-pants wedding that he and Keith had initially planned for was a lot harder to envision now that he could see their giant seat-of-the-pants wedding coming together in real time. Hunk’s mom and Keith’s cousin would be able to dine out on this for ages. Hunk wouldn’t be surprised if the cake he’d just found out had been made not by Olia’s team but by his mother and mother-in-law read ‘Told you so’ in frosting letters on the side of each tier.

There was a becalming of the crowd on the other side of the curtain and a moment later Hunk saw why, as Gyrgan ascended the steps to the stage and stood under the heart arch, which had been draped with garlands of roses. Gyrgan had on the bell-sleeved robes he’d favored for magisterial duty, and an embroidered white stole he liked to wear when he officiated weddings. He’d told Hunk once that he picked his wardrobe because it let the guests know that he wasn’t some random fellow who got lost while looking for his seat, he was there because the wedding was starting. Gyrgan folded his hands behind his back and gave the thumbs up, which he knew that Hunk could see clearly from his spot in the wings.

At last the synths of “Muskrat Love” faded out (why Hina whyyyy) and the first sweet chords from Shay’s recorded harp announced that the processional was beginning. A gentle touch on the shoulder and then there was Shay herself, smiling reassuringly with the groomsmen lining up behind her. On the stage, Gyrgan wriggled his fingers behind his back, which was the prearranged signal for Hunk and his party to file out and hit their marks, because thankfully someone had realized that Hunk might be too nervous to remember to count. As Allura’s violin climbed the scale against a backdrop of harp and piano, Hunk strode out from the wings into the soft fill light aimed at the stage. 

Lubos had ordered a lighting scheme that would make him look good; now it would serve to highlight Keith’s beauty. Hunk turned to face the guests as Shay moved up to stand next to him, then Jiro, Gorou, and finally Manny. In the front row on the bride’s side, Hunk’s mother-in-law sat next to Shiro, the two of them nodding their encouragement. Across the aisle from them sat Hunk’s parents, aunt and sister. Hunk’s mother was crying already.

Oh man. Hunk could feel the sympathetic waterworks wanting to burst forth, but fortunately for his dignity another focal point presented itself in the form of Lena, promenading down the aisle in her light orange dress with its wide ruffled collar. Her hair was held back from her face with a light orange ribbon, revealing her brilliant smile. In her hands dangled a pomander of white carnations, matching the boutonnières the groomsmen had pinned to their lapels. 

Next to step onto the gold carpet runner was Kuro, in a column frock the same color as Lena’s but with a more sophisticated neckline that draped off one shoulder and left the other completely bare. He carried the same type of pomander as Lena. After him was Haruka, proving that the same frock could look as becoming on the female figure as the male, and after her, Lance. Instead of a pomander he wore a wrist corsage of white spray roses that matched Shay’s boutonnière. This marked him out to the guests as the primary honor attendant as well as leaving his hands completely free to hold things for Keith.

The melody having been thoroughly introduced, the piece reached the height of its passionate buildup. Hunk held his breath as Keith appeared at the top of the steps leading from the Wintergarden down into the ballroom. The guests all stood; flashbulbs began to go off. Hunk vaguely registered that he was on Akane’s arm and that she was wearing a red tux, but she was a scarlet blur. Keith filled his vision.

Hunk had thought he had a mental image of what Keith would look like, that he would be prepared. That holoku had been passed down through several generations of brides on his mother’s side of the family, and Hunk had seen pictures of its various permutations. He’d even seen it once on Keith!

None of that had prepared him for the sight of Keith wrapped in white brocade so familiar yet brand new, enfolded by the golden light of the paper lanterns above as he drew nearer and nearer, until finally Akane was passing Keith up the riser steps during the coda. The amber key light surrounded him like a halo, tracing the shape of his bare shoulders and lingering in the curve of his long neck. Hunk reached out and Keith reached back, a pomander of white orchids dangling from a satin ribbon around his wrist. Hunk drew Keith up beside him, and his smile was so beautiful.

“Welcome friends and family! Please be seated.” Gyrgan’s booming voice was given a boost by the stage’s boundary microphones. “We are gathered here together to witness the joining together of Tsuyoshi Garrett and Keith Kogane in matrimony! Before we begin, I’d like to invite Hunk and Keith to take a look around at all of the loved ones who have come here to support them on this truly special day.”

Hunk and Keith turned to look out at the guests filling the ballroom, and their coworkers leaning over the Wintergarden balustrade. A cheer went up from the Wintergarden that rapidly spread to the ballroom in the form of a round of applause.

“Splendid!” Gyrgan held up his hands to quiet the applause. “How wonderful to see such a fine show of appreciation for such a lovely couple! In mutual appreciation, allow me to quote the Bard from As You Like It: “No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.” I feel this next question is surely a rhetorical one, but do we have the blessings and support of this couple’s families to proceed?”

The family members in the front rows gave cheers of assent.

“Marvelous! Hunk and Keith, I encourage you to live in this moment and enjoy it thoroughly. To find true love is a rare and precious thing, and to keep it is a joyous life’s work. As you continue into that joyous life I implore you both to remember that unity is where true power comes from, and true unity can only be born of love. I understand that the two of you have prepared your own vows?”

Hunk and Keith both confirmed this was so. 

“Hunk, will you be going first?”

“Yes.” Hunk reached into his jacket’s besom pocket for the piece of notebook paper he’d written on and marked up with red editing ink. “Yes I will.” He looked up and met eyes with Keith and realized he didn’t really need to refer back to his notes because he remembered every single word he’d wanted to say. “Keith. I heard your voice on the phone and knew I wanted to meet you before I ever even saw you. Then I met you and I wanted to get to know you. You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, windows to the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. You unselfishly offered me comfort and safety before you even had a reason to trust me, and that means more to me than I can say. You’re so brave you humble me. I love you so much and I promise to support you in whatever way you need. I’m honored to marry you.”

Keith’s smile trembled, his huge eyes shining like stars.

Gyrgan turned his empathetic gaze Keith’s way. “Whenever you’re ready, Keith.”

Keith reached behind him. Lance took a folded note card out of his frock’s pocket and passed it over. Keith glanced down at it, chewing on his lip. When he looked up again he did not break away from their eye contact.

“The first thing you ever said to me was that you wanted to fix my overhead light.” Keith smiled as the guests chuckled. “I kind of didn’t believe you. But then you did fix it, and you kept doing things you said you were gonna do. You’re a man of your word, and then I wondered if maybe you didn’t know that other people aren’t always the same. But then I realized that you did know, and you keep your word anyway because that’s the kind of man you are. You always try to do the right thing. So, if marrying me is something you’ve decided is the right thing to do, I’m blessed.” He took a deep breath. “And I won’t ever let you regret it, because I love you too.”

Hunk felt a warmth in his chest that was echoed in Keith’s smile.

“I suppose I don’t really need to confirm that you are both here of your own free will,” Gyrgan said, and the guests laughed.

“I’m here of my own free will,” Keith said.

“Me too,” said Hunk.

“Then Tsuyoshi,” Gyrgan said, “will you promise to love, respect, comfort and help Keith as your partner in life from this day forward?”

“I will.”

“And Keith, will you promise to love, respect, comfort and help Tsuyoshi as your partner in life from this day forward?”

“You bet I will.”

“May we have the rings.”

Keith turned to Lance just as Hunk turned to Shay, who took the band of gold she had been entrusted with out of her suit’s breast pocket.

“The rings you now hold are unbroken circles representing a continual return of love and respect,” Gyrgan said. “They also represent the circle of community that surrounds you with support and affection. If ever you are apart and need to be reminded that you are loved, you need only look upon these rings which will be yours from now on. Please repeat after me...”

Hunk repeated the words and took Keith’s hand, strong and sturdy but still so much smaller than his own. He placed the ring on Keith’s finger, nestled next to his engagement ring. The wedding band was a comfort fit in red gold, so that the environmental wear on the two rings would be consistent over time.

It was Keith’s turn to repeat the words and place a ring on Hunk’s finger. Hunk had ordered red gold to match Keith’s band, but in a pipe cut to better suit the shape of his own hand. When Keith slid the ring onto his finger, Hunk was surprised to see that his ring had been engraved with a maile leaf motif around its exterior circumference. He looked up to find Keith with an uncharacteristic blush on his face, and smiled at how thoughtful he was and how well he’d kept this a secret. Keith didn’t like to call attention to his surprises when he sprang them, but that didn’t give them any less of an impact.

“With the power vested in me by the great state of California, it is my sincere pleasure to pronounce Tsuyoshi and Keith to be married!” Gyrgan looked between the two of them. “You may now salute your spouse!”

Then Keith stepped up into his arms like Nike taking flight and Hunk lifted him right up off his feet as his sweet scent surrounded them both. He kissed Keith’s lips and face and Keith did the same to him, and then Keith laughed and swiped at Hunk’s face. Hunk was sure he had red lipstick on his cheeks, and equally sure that he was perfectly okay with that. He pulled him close again, leaning his nose alongside Keith’s, sharing his breath and enjoying his smile. The applause began to permeate the bubble around the couple.

“May your union begin in harmony and peace, and may the universe grant you the power to overcome any obstacle!” Gyrgan raised his arms, this time to encourage the cheering. “Gentlefolk please stand up for the newlyweds!”

The clarion call of trumpets on the recorded recessional was quickly joined by the bright sounds of strings, wood instruments, tympani and an organ all competing with the well wishes of the guests. Hunk set Keith down again and took his hand, then gave into temptation and kissed him one more time. The guests whooped. Keith’s smile was brilliant as Venus at twilight, as hand in hand they stepped off the stage into the next stage of their lives.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The guests had been ushered into the Wintergarden, and the velvet drapes had been dropped to hide the frantic activity going on in the ballroom during the cocktail hour. The bartenders at the open bar were kept busy as the guests mingled with glasses of sparkling wines, tumblers of mixed drinks, and not a few bottles of beer. The rain had stopped, leaving the hotel’s grounds lushly saturated with color, so the event photographer Mr. Puig had ordered the wedding party to go outside for pictures, but Lance had an important mission to complete before he could join them.

_“Lance, I’m so fucking hungry.”_ Keith had another costume change waiting for him after the pictures, and then the reception was going to be starting. _“I didn’t eat as much as I wanted at lunch because I was wrapped up tighter than a virgin’s chastity belt. Please find me something to eat!”_

So Lance had braved the hungry crowds and clasped a bunch of hands and politely excused himself from several conversations to get to the hors d’oeuvres tables set up in the Wintergarden. There were taro rolls and squares of chocolate butter mochi, but by far the most prominent option was the sushi, arranged on tiered plates to make them resemble wedding cakes, complete with sashimi roses on the topmost plates. Some people were partaking of the sushi eagerly. Others were discussing the sushi presentation while eating the rolls and sweets. Either way, the sushi was getting attention.

It had Lance’s attention too. Haruka had finally folded on the coffee ban, but she’d still made them all eat diet food so that there would be no chance whatsoever of their frocks being too tight. Lance snatched up a firecracker roll and quickly discovered that to know there was chili on the sushi roll was not to know how hot it was actually going to be. Then angels sang as the crowd parted to reveal Shiro standing there in a gorgeous grey suit with an orange tie, carrying two glasses of Prosecco. Actually though, the singing might have been Coran, whose voice carried quite well through the press of people.

“Thank you, my dearest darling love.” Lance gladly accepted the sweet bubbly and tipped it back.

Shiro grinned and dropped a kiss on his pleasantly stinging mouth. “I better be your only darling love.”

“I was counting platonic loves in that statement.” Lance grinned back as he grabbed an appetizer plate. “Want to help me carry sustenance to Keith and then find a place to hide for a minute or two?” A minute or two would be all he could spare until much later, and they probably shouldn’t spend it fornicating.

“Sure.” Shiro smiled and gave him a fond little tug on his earlobe, and then helped him fill up a second plate. 

Together, they wound through the crowd to get back to the lobby. As they did, they passed by Coran, and indeed it had been his voice Lance had heard. He’d been singing along to the pop songs being pumped through the function room’s sound system, and had gathered around himself some admirers and a few fellow singers to join him in harmony. Coran’s vocals were a joy to the ear, but this song’s lyrics seemed a little bit over the top to Lance.

“If somebody’s voice explodes inside your head, wouldn’t that hurt?”

Shiro chuckled. “The song is supposed to be about uncontrollable desire.” He was right behind Lance, close enough to feel his body heat, which was wonderfully comforting, but also kind of horny-making. “Uncontrollable desire can be painful.”

Lance glanced over his shoulder at Shiro, who was still rightfuckingthere, and decided he could relate to this song after all. “When I finally get you all to myself after this night is over, I’m not gonna hold back.” Every time he’d seen Shiro since the sun came up he’d looked absolutely mouth-watering, and Lance couldn’t do anything about it.

_Yet._

“I’ll accept that as an oral contract,” Shiro rumbled close enough for the vibration to travel and for Lance to feel it in his bond mark, which was just not fair.

Lance put a move on to get out of that crowd before anybody got a whiff of his response.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Narti watched Acxa watching the French countryside flicker by under the light of a last quarter moon outside of the train window. Kova had been surrendered to an agent posing as a veterinarian much earlier in the day, with the evidence hidden inside her cat carrier. Narti had been reassured that her cat would be waiting safe and sound on the other side of the channel. She’d damn well better be safe and sound and not freaked out by traveling with strangers.

Acxa and Narti then had to spend the rest of the day acting normal before they could leave again under the guise of going out for a bite to eat. They’d already smuggled out some of their belongings and left them in a train station locker. It hadn’t been much. By now they’d missed multiple check-ins and the other security staff would be figuring out something was up and searching for clues through what they’d left behind. That hadn’t been much either.

Narti had a high tolerance for silences, but Acxa was hard to read at the best of times so finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What are you thinking?”

Acxa’s black-fringed blue eyes turned her way. “Just wondering what comes next.”

She probably didn’t just mean the debrief in store for them after their train emerged on the other side of the chunnel. Narti had always been more of an improviser by nature, taking the information provided by her spy cams and using it to make judgements on the fly. It was part and parcel of what made her a good bodyguard. Between the two of them, Acxa was the planner. Calm, meticulous, deliberate in everything she did, and yet she’d still trusted Narti when presented with this scheme that upended everything in their lives.

“Run away with me,” Narti said.

Acxa’s lips quirked in that almost-a-smile which meant she was more amused than she wanted to let on. “Thought we just did that.”

“No, I mean after this. Run away with me and let’s be divorced together.”

Acxa laughed and reached for her hand, and then Narti knew everything was going to be alright, come what may.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Marco nursed a beer and smiled at the occasional flirtatious look thrown his way. He didn’t know very many people here, but that had never stopped him from enjoying the hell out of a party. He’d noticed little brother hustling over to the refreshment stand and was going to waltz over and say hello, when his alpha showed up all protective-like and then they left again in a hurry carrying plates full of food. Hermanito must still be on bridal patrol. Marco would catch up with him later.

A tendril of perfume accompanied a soft hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Hey amico, have you got a raincoat?”

Marco turned and looked down into the most beautiful cleavage he’d ever had the privilege of resting his eyes on. “For you mademoiselle, I would happily ruin my dinner jacket.”

The redhead giggled, which did wonderful things for her tightly-bound breasts. She was wearing a yellow floor-length dress with some sort of boning holding up the strapless bodice and helping her impressive assets defy gravity. “Sorry, I thought you were my friend Lance. You’re wearing his favorite color.”

“It’s quite alright.” Marco had been mistaken for Lance before, from a distance, but never before because he was wearing blue. “You can still have the use of my jacket if you need it.”

“Malocoti, I told you before we left, you won’t need that kind of protection here.” The omega woman was joined by an alpha dude with shaggy dark blond hair and a scruff that didn’t quite go with the skinny suit he had on.

Malocoti shrugged her pale bare shoulders, and some more of that floral aroma wafted out. “Can’t blame a girl for wanting to be prepared.”

Shaggy blond alpha then took notice of Marco standing there. “Hello there. Rolo Chase of Seraphic Matchmaking Services, we bring angels home from the city, let us help you find yours today!” He reached a hand out to shake. “You know, you do look a lot like the bride’s main honor attendant.”

“Marco Fernández Álvarez.” Marco shook hands. “Lance is my brother, that’s why the resemblance.”

“What a small world.” Rolo’s grin took on a grimacing quality. “I guess you don’t really need our help finding a bride then, that charm must run in the family.” 

What a strange man. But Marco was never one to turn away from a fateful meeting.

“I’m not in any hurry to find a bride,” Marco confessed, “but maybe you can help my friend.”

He pointed across the room, and the alpha and omega followed his gaze to where James Griffin was chatting up an omega that anybody with eyeballs in their head could see was wearing a courting necklace. Anybody but Griffin, apparently. Marco was growing quite fond of his boss. He was an easy guy to like. A bit of a hothead, but Marco had grown up around hotheads so he was immune. 

Somebody needed to save Griffin from himself before he wound up in the hospital from a fight with another alpha. The only thing worse would be if he actually married that ice prince Raible who’d attended the Halloween party that Hawkins Aircraft Company had thrown. Marco had been generously invited as well, even though he technically worked for Griffin rather than the company, and he was new besides. Saint Raible, dressed in full Regency era costume, had paraded himself about the company campus in ‘someday all of this will be mine’ mode that nobody else seemed to regard as anything but an eventuality to be braced for like having a wisdom tooth pulled.

Marco wasn’t sure he really believed in true love, but he did believe that those who chose to believe in it deserved to find whatever approximation of it satisfied them. James Griffin definitely was a believer. Marco was positive that with a little more time and assistance, Griffin could find a mate who valued what was important to him much better than the chilly Saint Raible was capable of doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the reception begins.


	20. Angel Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reception dinner has a few little surprises in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go out to everybody who reads, kudos and comments! Shout outs to PyroInfinite, luminiferousaether, and Drowning_Slowly!
> 
> Rolo always struck me as one of those dudes who really tries to listen to his better angel, but unfortunately his better angel is not as smart as his worse angel (and his worse angel is not that smart either).

  
Keith was still stuffing his cheeks with taro rolls while Mrs. Suzuishi grumpily wrapped him in kimono. Bless Lance and Shiro for bringing the grub. He’d thank them by not commenting on the fact that they had promptly disappeared after the pictures like Fred and Daphne in the middle of a Scooby Doo episode.

“I will have to flatten a pot belly on you if you don’t stop munching,” Mrs. Suzuishi groused.

“I can’t help it,” Keith said, completely impenitent. “I’m so hungry. Besides, black is slimming.”

His outfit was being changed for a hikifurisode to start off the reception, and he had to admit it was absolutely gorgeous. Deep black with cranes flying through autumn leaves on the swinging sleeves and below the obi line, a red lining visible on the trailing hem, and a golden obi that was going to be tied into a plump sparrow knot, it was one of the most elegant things Keith had ever put on. Regardless of that, he was gonna eat like food was going out of style while he could still expand his belly.

Mrs. Suzuishi had judged his borrowed kanzashi as an appropriate enough match to leave in, but she’d made him take off his new shoes. He might need Lance to help touch up his makeup before the grand entrance, if he ever came back from sneaking a Scooby snack.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Shiro fell back against the wall, panting. A wooden hanger poked him in the ear. They’d snuck up to the mezzanine level and into an unoccupied coat check room. He looked down at his omega, who was now tucking him back into his trousers with a satisfied smile on his face.

“See?” Lance raised his pretty blue eyes. “I told you this was a great idea. If you can remember your speech while I’m doing that, you’re golden.”

“You were right, honey.” Shiro reached down and lifted Lance onto his feet. “This was a great idea.” Then he whipped them around so that it was Lance who made the wooden hangers clatter. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Mine’s not a speech, it’s a toast.” Lance laughed breathlessly. “Anyway, everybody’s gonna be drunk by the time we get to mine.”

“Maybe.” Shiro knelt and threw orange chiffon over his head. “But you should still practice. It’s six of one half-dozen of the other, remember?”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
In a storage closet on the other side of the mezzanine, another alpha held another omega up against another wall.

“Have I ever told you how much I adore the sight of you in menswear?” Allura’s eyes glimmered like star shine in the low light coming in through the cracks in the louvered door.

Shay tried to stifle her laugh. “How about you show me?” And then she gasped as Allura took her at her word.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Marco introduced his new friends to his new boss and finally got a clue where the problem lay with Griffin’s attraction to claimed omegas. He had wondered, because it had seemed to him as if Griffin liked all omegas: all primary genders, all shapes and sizes. So why did he always bypass those who were available and looking, and go straight for the bonded or just plain not interested? Perhaps because there was a particular restraint in the ones who were already spoken for, combined with a certain confidence, a marriage of traits which Griffin seemed to find irresistible. Malocoti had the confidence in spades, but she didn’t have the restraint, which Marco personally found quite charming but Griffin obviously didn’t. 

While this meet-and-greet was happening, Saint Raible slunk out of the milling crowd escorted by an annoyed alpha woman. Marco hadn’t seen Raible or the alpha, a statuesque redhead who introduced herself as Kala, during the ceremony. Come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed Rolo or Malocoti there either. They were probably all gate crashing. Cocktail hour in the Wintergarden seemed to be getting more crowded by the minute.

Kala had been less than thrilled by her date towing her over so that he could stake his claim on another alpha, but she got over it fast upon meeting Malocoti. Whatever aspect of the omega’s forwardness that had Griffin keeping a polite reserve didn’t seem to bother Kala in the slightest. To say they hit it off would be like saying hummingbirds enjoyed an occasional drop of nectar. Kala had accepted Rolo’s card and was now holed up in a corner giving Malocoti her undivided attention. Malocoti appeared to be telling a story that involved a lot of very distracting arm-waving.

Meanwhile, Raible, quite the popinjay in Tyrian purple velvet that set off his Titian hair just so, had entitled himself to leaning on Griffin’s arm. Griffin looked resigned but not terribly happy about it. Marco sighed. He did so enjoy the company of saucy redheads as a general rule, but not this particular one.

He turned to the matchmaker. “Please tell me you know more candidates we can introduce him to.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
“You’ve got gate crashers.” Jiro returned to the main dressing room with a plate of improvised sliders made out of sashimi tucked into taro rolls. The hotel’s sushi chef Natsuko would probably be horrified to see what Hunk’s uncle had done to her sashimi roses.

“Can’t be helped,” Hunk said as he helped himself to one of the sliders, which had a texture that reminded him of a lox bagel but a finish that was more sweet than savory.

He’d known there would be crashers as soon as he decided to make cocktail hour open to all comers, but he’d wanted his employees to be able to feel part of it all whether they were on shift or not, so tolerating the gate crashers became a necessary trade-off. Dinner would be a closed affair, since there was just no getting around the finite amount of dining space available. Since that was the case, he’d decided to go ahead and keep that invitation list limited to the guests who had RSVP’d in time, thus making the most conservative use of the space and saving his crew the hassle of having to clear overflow tables off the dance floor after dinner. After the first dances the reception would be reopened, and he knew he could expect more crashers when that happened.

In the meantime, he was enjoying the company of friends and family while waiting for Keith to finish his costume change and come join him, and for their officiant and witnesses to come back from wherever they’d all bopped off to, so that they could finally sign the marriage license. Gyrgan was the first to return carrying a loaded serving platter he must have absconded with as soon as it was laid down, and which he generously shared with the others waiting in the dressing room. Keith was next, resplendent in hikifurisode, with his mother beside him helping him carry his trailing hem. Hunk’s mother complimented him effusively, and Keith smiled and thanked her, and then promptly sat down in Hunk’s lap.

“I’m gonna just take a nap right here until Lance and them get back from making time.”

“Careful of that knot,” Mrs. Suzuishi warned as she brought up the rear. “It is very easy to damage.”

Krolia and Alana traded some indecipherable look as Keith sighed and curled up on Hunk’s lap. His feet must be killing him.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk said, “I got him.” 

He wrapped an arm around Keith’s lower back, under the obi line to support him without unraveling him, and placed a stabilizing hand on his opposite knee. They were still in this tableau when the missing honor attendants and their mates stumbled in together, all four of them flushed and giggling over nearly getting caught by the staff who were opening up the rooms above for the other wedding. Hunk was beginning to think he should be offering his people hazard pay wherever this bunch was concerned.

“Excellent!” Gyrgan opened the briefcase he’d left it in the dressing room during the ceremony and took out the marriage license. “Now that all of the signatories are present and accounted for we can sign this legal document!”

Gyrgan had already filled out his portion of the certificate. He held the emptied serving platter out to Hunk and Keith with the document on it to sign, followed in turn by Shay and then Lance. Gyrgan would be filing the license for them the following day. In the presence of loved ones, it was finally done. They were legally wed.

“Time to party!” Keith declared, holding up one arm in a victory pose, and inviting a scolding from Mrs. Suzuishi for letting the silk sleeve fall down to his elbow (“That is not a bathrobe you are wearing!”)

“Time to party,” Hunk agreed, planting a kiss on his spouse’s smiling red lips.

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
The heavy drapes had been parted in front of the steps at one corner of the ballroom level so that the invited guests could be seated for dinner. Admittance at this entry point was being guarded by Haruka and Akane. Once past the curtain, the guests were then guided to their tables by other members of the wedding party. When Hunk had briefed them before they left the dressing room, he said that he didn’t mind if any guests wanted to just switch seats, but what he didn’t want to have happen was for people to move their chairs from one table to another, because then they could wind up with a few really crowded tables plus a few nearly-abandoned tables. The current conformation comfortably seated up to ten to a round with the distribution arranged in lucky numbers of seven, eight or ten; to mess with that ratio was to invite such disasters as guests knocking over each other’s drinks, sticking their elbows in each other’s food, or that dreaded phenomenon where a few unlucky people wound up sitting in wedding reception no-man’s land. 

Kuro had been glad to repeat the rules when seating his mother, who had been less than pleased to discover that he would not be seated right next to his son. Kuro was to sit with the wedding party, who were to be seated at a table on one side of the bride and groom, with their closest family members at a table on the other side of them instead of at the table farthest away. This sort of setup was apparently traditional here. 

｢The lack of humility｣ Tatsuo grumbled, while Shinji shrugged and smiled apologetically as he pulled out Tatsuo’s chair for him. Those two seemed to be getting along much better just recently.

From the raised eyebrows, it seemed that the guests sharing their table were also fluent in Nihongo. Kuro recognized Danko-sensei and greeted her respectfully, and received a pleased greeting in kind before he excused himself to seat his next party.

Kuro spotted Pidge through the part in the curtains before she spotted him. She had worn orange! To match him for their dance? She looked amazing in it regardless, the shade of the fabric bringing out the autumnal tones in her hair. Now Kuro felt disappointed about the assigned tables, because he would surely not get to sit close to her during dinner.

Then he spotted the leggy beta looker with her arm around Pidge’s shoulders. Who was this woman who thought she could step between Kuro and his alpha? He strode forth, blazing with affront at such effrontery. Of course Pidge had a right to bring a friend to sit with her, they were not betrothed. But they had begun to court, or so he thought, and this woman was behaving in an entirely too familiar manner with his... his...

Could he really say that Pidge was his alpha?

When Pidge cleared the curtain barrier and saw his determined approach, she smiled up at him with her entire beautiful face. “Kuro! Come here and meet my mother.” She gestured to the tall beta woman who, now that Kuro was closer, clearly bore a strong resemblance to Matthew, who was stepping through the part in the curtains behind her. “You might wanna keep a safety buffer though, Mom’s dress might be cursed.”

“Katie, that is not funny!” The woman looked as embarrassed as Kuro now felt. “Hello Kuro, my name is Colleen, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Before she could put her hand out, Kuro offered the bow of respect due to a potential mother-in-law whose dress might harbor an angry spirit. “Konbanwa.”

“Oh my goodness.” Colleen responded with a gesture that Kuro was becoming nearly as familiar with as the handshake. She curtsied.

Matthew sighed, and as he moved closer Kuro noticed that his hair had been recently cut back to the collarbone length it had been when Kuro had first met him. 

“Mom, I know I taught you better than that.”

  
*~*~*~*~* 

  
Danko and Tatsuo became immersed in a conversation about Kuro’s educational prospects which Tatsuo was no doubt finding quite edifying. He was distracted enough by his efforts to politely pry information out of Danko, and said efforts were intriguing enough to the other guests at the table, that Shinji was able to excuse himself with hardly anyone taking notice of him. They were probably assuming that he had gotten up to visit the bar, which had just been moved from the Wintergarden into the ballroom. In truth, he was going in that direction and would most likely pay it a visit on his way back to the table. Really, though, he was going to the stage, where he’d noticed that Hina Garrett was setting up her equipment at stage right, so she’d be ready for later in the evening.

Hina looked up as he mounted the treads. “Hiya. Getting in an early request?”

“Perhaps.” Shinji looked out at the ballroom to ensure that Shiro’s attention was not anywhere near him and pulled the microSD card out of his suit pocket. It had been inside an envelope that had fallen out of the sleeve of Shinji’s haori jacket when Shiro had taken it off, and Shiro had been in too much of a rush to notice or even remember he’d put it up there in the first place.

“What’s this?” Hina asked as he handed it over.

“It is a video file someone made for Keith and Hunk thinking to amuse them on their wedding day.” Shinji had taken the liberty of watching it. “I believe their intentions were harmless, but I would rather defer to your judgment on the matter.”

Hina pocketed the microSD card and did her own quick scan of the ballroom. “Thanks, I’ll sneak off and give it a watch when I get a minute.”

Shinji nodded his own thanks. “I will cover for you if you need it.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“We ready?” Nadia Rizavi, the MC, tapped the wireless mic against her tuxedo vest. 

“It’s ready,” Daigo said. “I tested it thoroughly, just turn it on when you’re ready to speak into it, there won’t be any latency or static. I’m about to change the lights, are our couples ready?”

“Ready.” Two couples gave thumbs up.

“Great! Let’s hit it.” 

Nadia stepped out of the wings toward center stage while the two couples lined up at the steps to make their entrance into the ballroom from backstage. In the ballroom, the overhead chandeliers dimmed from a blaze to a glimmer while the uplighting along the walls turned up and up, and pink. The overall result was a warm, rosy glow throughout the ballroom, which caused the low level buzz of guest conversations to lower to a murmur. This was their cue.

“Good evening, gentlefolk!” Nadia was suddenly standing in a spotlight in front of the wedding arch downstage. “My name is Nadia and I’ll be your Master of Ceremonies this evening! Let’s give a warm welcome to– oh wait, never mind, it’s just the matron of honor and the nakōdo, everybody can relax.”

Lance and Shiro grinned and waved at the guests, who’d begun standing for their entrance expecting the bride and groom. The guests laughed as the two made their way to the wedding party table. This was exactly how they’d wanted this moment to go. Now the guests were all fully alert, relaxed and smiling. The crowd was warmed up for the main event.

“Everybody please stand and show your love for our newlyweds, Hunk Garrett and Keith Kogane Garrett!”

And the crowd went wild. Gorou even got off a burst of silly string before Gyrgan got his arm around the younger man and took the can away from him. Hunk had put himself in the path of the silly string and took the brunt of the brief airborne sally on his tuxedo jacket, protecting Keith’s seriously glam kimono. The rest of the silly string wound up on the carpet, where one of the porters on duty rushed to clean it up and then take Hunk’s jacket for him, because, fun fact: that stuff was highly flammable.

In light of this, it was a good thing they’d decided not to put candles on the tables. Instead, inspired by the wedding invitations, they’d made firefly lanterns using gold twinkle lights inside jars of frosted green glass. Each table also had a horizontal centerpiece of red-tipped ivory roses with green fern leaves, and some curly branches to hold up both the table numbers and a few of the origami cranes that Keith’s and Hunk’s families had pulled together to make for the couple. Each place setting had a favor bag topped off with a paper doily rolled into a cone and filled with dried rose petals.

The crowning glory was the sweetheart table, set up with an excellent vantage point of the ballroom and easy access to the treads leading stage left for when Keith needed to sneak off to change clothes. Instead of a round, Keith and Hunk had a small rectangle for two, covered with the same gold and burgundy tablecloth but with a rose garland draped across the entire front of it, and two of the largest origami cranes flanking their firefly lantern. The twinkle lights danced a reflection on the gold foil surface of the cranes like a harbinger of good tidings. Behind the table sat the most flamboyant chairs Lance had ever seen, and he’d worked in a strip joint. When Hunk pulled one out for Keith, a lion roar sound effect echoed out of the sound system.

Hunk aimed a look up at Nadia on the stage, who just smiled at him mirthfully. Daigo must be doing this from the A/V room backstage, but they’d probably orchestrated this together. Hunk tried to pull his own chair out less dramatically and got lion coughs and grumbles for his care. Lance found himself thankful that Haruka was too prim of nature to have even thought about pranking him on purpose. Keith, for his part, seemed to be finding this as amusing as the guests were, so Hunk smiled and shrugged, and settled down next to him.

Wait staff circled the room pouring champagne and filling water glasses as the sounds of piano jazz softly meandered through the space. Guests started taking note of their favor bags, which included bamboo coasters that some of them unwrapped immediately to use for their drinks. As soon as everyone was suitably refreshed, the starter course was served. The bright colors and scents of tomatoes, olives, herbs and feta cheese rose up appealingly from the gold-rimmed salad plate that a waiter placed on Lance’s charger. He eagerly picked up his fork and put it in the salad, and was surprised when instead of fork tines clinking against china, they thunked into something that crunched as it started to give way.

Shiro leaned over to whisper in his ear. “There’s a rusk under the salad.”

Lance tilted his head to meet eyes with his husband, who was looking back at him with so much jollity coming across the bond that it was hard not to return the feeling. This was, after all, not the first time Shiro had to tell Lance where the bread was in a tomato-based starter.

“Our first speech of the evening will be delivered by our happy couple’s nakōdo, who has prepared some remarks and dedicated a song!” Without warning, there was Nadia right by the wedding party’s table carrying a second wireless microphone which she held out for Shiro.

“Right!” Shiro lifted his tulip glass of champagne and downed it in one go before rising and accepting the mic. “I’m Shiro, uh, Takashi Shirogane, but everybody calls me Shiro. Hi.” There was a welcoming giggle, a good sign that the audience didn’t want him to bomb. “I'm honored to be here,” Shiro continued. “You see, it’s kind of a wonderful accident that I’m here. The day that started this whole thing, when I got lost after leaving a party, I had no idea I was creating a domino effect that was going to wind up changing several lives, including my own. I didn’t even know I was related to Keith at the time.” At the crowd’s confused tittering, he said, “I’m sure it must be difficult to believe that a sharp fellow such as myself would ever get lost, but I’m afraid it’s true.” The deadpan delivery earned him a ‘go on’ laugh. “Then I met my spouse, Lance,” Lance smiled and nodded at the acknowledgment, “who met Hunk through me, and introduced Hunk to Keith, and then Keith turned out to be my cousin.” The laughter was more genuine this time. “I won’t bore you with the details.” And then the laughter was louder. “I just want to say that if fate decided to use me to bring these two people together, then I couldn’t be happier to be an implement of fate. Between the two of them, Keith and Hunk have enough courage and kindness to go any distance. Those qualities they share together are actually the reason why I picked the song I chose for them.” 

Shiro nodded to Nadia, who signaled to Daigo in the wings. An orchestral cadenza swooped out of the sound system. Lance was sure he’d heard this before. Was it Liszt?

♪ “A dream is a wish your heart makes...” ♪

Ah, of course. Lance smiled as Shiro’s smooth baritone soared through the notes like a hawk through a forest. His interpretation of the song was more steely-eyed than sentimental, which somehow made it even more perfect. The song came to a close and was followed with a hearty “Kampai!” which was quickly echoed around the room as the guests applauded and toasted the newlyweds.

The reception dinner continued apace, with Akane being the next one to give a speech and dedicate a song to the couple. She sang a ballad in Japanese that had half the guests singing along and Hunk’s mom full out crying, and ended with a toast of “Shinro shimpu, kampai!” The audience response was thunderous. **“Kampai! Kampai! Kampai!”** Then Akane put on a green cloak and a giant red lion mask with a long white mane, as drums and flute began to play through the sound system.

“Shishi-mai!” Kuro said excitedly. He was seated on Shiro’s other side. “Lance, put your hand out to be bitten when she comes to our table, it’s good luck!”

Sure enough, Akane-lion proceeded to ‘bite’ a laughing Keith and Hunk on the crowns of their heads with the mask, before dancing around the tables, ‘biting’ offered hands and the occasional head of hair. Aside from the newlyweds, it was mostly children who were getting the playful head-chomp treatment. When she came to the wedding party table, Lance put his hand out as instructed. Gold-painted teeth clacked around it painlessly. The others around the table got a similar good luck bite, until the lion came to Kuro, and then she chomped the top of his head while he laughed.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
As the salads were cleared away, Hunk’s father got up to help serve a round of beer, then delivered his speech while the wait staff served the main course. Jin capped off his speech with a round of toasts.

“Raihin no minisama, banzai!”

**“Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!”**

Hunk took a pull of dry rice lager and looked over at his bride, who was busily licking foam off his lips. Keith caught him looking and smirked.

“You were the one who wanted to wait.”

Hunk smiled. “I still think it’s worth it.”

Keith’s smirk softened to an answering smile.

For the main course, they’d offered their guests the classic choice of ‘chicken, fish, pork, beef or tofu’ with Hunk’s mother and Executive Chef Bakki collaborating on what those choices would entail. All of the mains were served with a side of creamy potato-mac. Keith’s mother had chosen the starter course, and Keith’s cousin had chosen the accompaniment which would follow the main course. The pre-cake desserts had been a collaboration between all four of them.

For his main, Hunk had decided on the huli huli chicken. He’d always loved his mother’s version of the recipe and was curious to see Bakki’s take on it. He tasted it and was pleased that Bakki had stayed pretty faithful to Alana’s pineapple marinade recipe. It seemed Bakki had put his own stamp on it by replacing the sherry with mirin, so it was actually a bit sweeter, but very appealing in its own right. Maybe they could give Bakki’s version a different name and put it on the poolside menu.

Keith had gone with the shoyu pork, which he started on with a sigh that might have been pleasure or it might have been frustration.

“Is it good?” As much as he was enjoying the chicken, Hunk would offer to trade if Keith didn’t like his entree.

“It’s delicious,” Keith said. “I’m just probably not going to be able to finish it, is all.” He’d mentioned when they were walking away from the izakaya that Mrs. Suzuishi had a tight hand with the wrapping. “Will we be able to take the leftovers home with us?”

“Of course we can.” 

Vince knew how to do the aluminum swans. Maybe he could pull off an aluminum crane? Hunk would get a note to him when Moxilous came back around to check their drinks. 

In the meantime they enjoyed some dinner entertainment from Gorou, who serenaded them with his rather throaty rendition of “Circle of Life.” Keith, who had never been treated to Gorou’s unique singing talents before, watched agog. Dinner wound down with more guest speeches and toasts, some planned, some spontaneous. Some breaking into song. Until it was finally time for a ceremonial bit of celebratory fun.

It was time to crack open a barrel of sake with mallets. They were symbolically opening up to a harmonious transition in their lives, and by sharing the sake with their guests they were sharing the harmony as well. Moxilous wheeled out a barrel of junmai sake on a dolly and deposited it on the floor of the ballroom. Hunk and Keith were each given a mallet with a red bow around the handle, and instructions to give the barrel a good smack on the count of three.

Nadia handled the honors. “Three! Two! One!”

SMACK.

The wooden top of the cask cracked open with a splash. Keith’s laughing face as he held the mallet in front of him as if wielding it against the spray, the flowery scent of the sake mixing with his scent in his excitement, the way that the hikifurisode’s sleeves draped from his strong arms like wisteria from tree limbs, and his bangs starting to escape from his hairstyle. These sensory pieces came together in a whole memory that Hunk would treasure for the rest of his life.

It was now clear to the guests what the masu cups in their favor bags were for, if they hadn’t guessed already. Sake was ladled out to everyone who wished to toast, as the dinner plates were cleared away and replaced with bowls of delightfully sticky sekihan. Nadia brought Hunk the microphone.

“I’d like to thank everybody who has joined us here today to celebrate this new beginning,” Hunk said, and then proceeded to thank and toast everybody who had helped them, in big ways and small, trying to tread the fine line between warm acknowledgment and oversharing. “Most of all, I want to thank Keith for taking a chance on a nosy Rosie who showed up at his place one day to offered unsolicited advice on his lighting choices.”

The guests laughed and Hunk knew this was going to become part of their story; the one people told when discussing him and Keith while they weren’t there. Like a game of telephone, it would morph with filled-in details that hadn’t existed in actuality, but that was okay. As he looked into Keith’s captivating eyes, they both felt the true story between them, and it was all the story they needed.

“I love you, babe, and I’m looking forward to telling you so every morning when we get up and every night before we go to sleep. Everybody, please lift a cup for this beautiful man I’m so lucky to have in my life. To Keith!”

Cheers went up all over the ballroom; glasses were lifted and tipped.

“Before I turn the mic over to Shay, I just want to sing one last thing.”

At last Hunk had arrived at the moment he’d practiced for in the shower and the car; pretty much any moment he was confident he wouldn’t be overheard. He signaled to Nadia to begin the music. The orchestral arrangement, not the piano. He couldn’t hit Barbra Streisand’s high notes even in falsetto, so he was going for the Vandross cover. May he comport himself with honor.

♪ “Love, soft as an easy chair; love, fresh as the morning air.” ♪

He sang the song directly to Keith, whose brilliant smile told him all he needed to know about how well this little surprise was being received.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
♪ “Ageless and ever, evergreen.” ♪

Hunk’s singing voice was steady and true, with a pleasing rasp that Keith felt like a stroke up the spine. He should have known Hunk had something like this up his sleeve. Hunk winked a big brown eye and then moved to pass the mic over to Shay, who had gotten up from the wedding party table to stand closer to the sweetheart table at some point while Keith was completely absorbed in being serenaded. People were clapping. Keith hadn’t noticed that either.

Without thought, Keith sprang up out of his lion throne and intercepted the mic. Hunk and Shay were both too stunned to stop him. They’d actually talked about this before the wedding, and Keith, upon finding out that the bride was not traditionally required to make any kind of speech, had felt like the pressure was off him and they were welcome to have all of it. But now he’d changed his mind. At the last possible second and in front of a couple hundred astonished witnesses.

“Um.” He bit his lip as his voice reverberated out of the sound system. “I just wanted to say thanks.” There was a spatter of awkward clapping. “I mean, thanks to everybody for doing all of this, and for being with us tonight, it... it means a lot. Hunk’s family, and my family, and the people who stepped up to be in the wedding party, and our coworkers, and our guests, you guys are all the best. And Hunk, you just... I mean you’re just so... I don’t know how to say... ” Keith was no shrinking violet, but he’d never been great with his words. “I wanna take a minute or two, and give much respect due, to the man who’s made a difference in my world.”

Aaaand now he was rapping. Over at the wedding party table, Lance started laying down a hand-clap beat for him.

“And although most men are ho’s he flows on the down low because I never heard about him with another bird.”

Over at the family table, Keith’s mom jumped up and started adding to the hand-clap beat and Keith abruptly remembered that the reason he knew all the lyrics to this version of “Whatta Man” was because Krolia used to sing it to his dad all the time, but it was too late to back out from parent sex cooties. He was committed and needed to follow through. He got through several more verses, and by the time he’d gotten to “I think I finally found someone that can make me laugh” Daigo had found some music to punctuate the pauses in the verses.

_♬ What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty mighty good man ♬_

The voice belting out of the sound system was not En Vogue, nor I.O.I., so it must be the older R&B song which had been sampled for those tracks.

“My man is smooth like Barry and his voice got bass, a body like Arnold with a Denzel face.”

Hunk looked thrilled to be the focus of Keith’s lyrical attention. These lyrics went to a lot of double entendre places, some of them not that subtle. Keith had always preferred directness when it wouldn’t earn him a knuckle sandwich, and sometimes even when it would, but he was saying all of this in front of Hunk’s mother. Would she be appalled to think that Keith was telling an audience all about what a snack her baby was?

Then he looked over at the family table again and saw Hunk’s mom and all of the rest of his family up on their feet clapping and dancing. Hunk was a straight shooter, and his family came across the same, but Hunk also had a tendency to let Keith decide how and when to discuss topics that he knew were tender to him. Could it be that Hunk’s family had avoided discussing Keith’s sexual history because they’d been waiting for him to lead that conversation? That kind of unspoken consideration had ‘Garrett’ written all over it, and now Keith was one, but he wasn’t one to hold back. He hoped his new extended family was ready for what he was bringing to the family table.

“He always has heavy conversation for the mind, which means a lot to me ‘cause good men are hard to find.”

This time when the chorus broke through, Keith had a trio of backup singers in the form of his honor attendants, who’d gotten up from the wedding party table and come over to stand behind him, but not before Lance popped Shiro on the behind and made him jump. Keith saw a flash bulb go off; Mister Puig must have captured the moment for posterity. If so, Keith was going to order that picture. After the chorus, his impromptu backup singers offered some well-placed ‘woos’ for the final series of verses.

“Every time I need him, he’s always got my back, never disrespectful ‘cause his mama taught him that.”

As the chorus kicked in for the last round, Hunk’s family gestured with points and praises to Alana, and yeah. She did a kickass job with Hunk. She deserved her praises. Maybe someday some future bride would be singing such praises to Keith and his family would be pointing proudly at him. That was a dream he could hold close to his heart.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Sitting back down beside Shiro, Lance sensed that there would soon come a reckoning for smacking his ass through the slats in the chiavari chair. The rhythm got him, that was his only excuse. In the meantime, Shay gave a sweet and funny speech about how she met Hunk in their freshman year of high school when he’d gallantly offered to roll her harp trolley for her, and then accidentally rolled it over his own foot. She spoke with genuine feeling about how overjoyed she was that her bestie found love, but not a great deal about him and Keith as a couple, which made sense since she hadn’t known them for very long as a couple. That was fine because it meant Lance’s material would have more brio.

Then it was Lance’s turn to deliver the brio, maybe with a side of brie. It would be cheese, but it would be classy cheese, for real. He participated in the deafening banzai that ended Shay’s speech, tossing back some liquid courage, before taking the mic which Shay passed across the table.

“Hey everybody, the name’s Lance and I’m the man of honor, and I just want to take a second to thank Keith for giving me this honor, and thank the rest of the wedding party for being so cool in helping make everything go smoothly today.” That got him a smattering of early applause. “Keith and I were roomies for a couple of years.” He smiled at Keith, who smiled back. “He took a chance and gave me a place to stay when I hardly knew anybody in L.A. because that’s the kind of gutsy guy he is. When he says he’s gonna be your friend, he’s ready to prove it by his actions.” There were limits to how much Lance could say about it in present company, but he wanted to bring the generosity of spirit across to people in this crowd who maybe didn’t know Keith well. “I made the coffee, and he made the porridge, we were getting by and figured we were doing alright, but then one day a kindhearted hotel manager gave me a lift home because I was running late for a date with Shiro.” Heavily sanitized but essentially true. “They’re making heart eyes at each other from the moment we get in the door.” Window actually, but semantics. “I leave them alone in the kitchen for less than twenty minutes, and by the time I get back they’re telling funny stories and carrying on loud enough to hear them from out in the hall.” The fact that the place wasn’t soundproofed was beside the point. If Keith had disliked Hunk even a little bit, there would have been dead silence greeting Lance’s return to the apartment. “There was something special between these two from the start and I feel privileged to have been there to witness it. I know that they’re going to have a wonderful future. These guys deserve all the best. Here’s to Keith and Hunk!” 

Hi lifted his cup to a round of cheers, and that’s when Shiro sprang his revenge. In technicolor surround sound, Lance suddenly experienced a split second memory of their second go-round on their own wedding night – from Shiro’s perspective.

“Aren’t you going to drink too, Lance?” Shiro asked with a knowing smirk.

“Yes.” Lance clenched his thighs together and wished he’d had the foresight to wear preheat undies. At least the modesty panties would keep him from pitching a tent under his frock, but they couldn’t do anything about the intensification of his scent. “Of course I am, I was just waiting for everybody else to go first.” He tipped his cup, and pondered what else might be possible to share through the bond-link. If Shiro thought that was going to be the end of it, he’d better think again.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro thought that maybe he’d just opened Pandora’s box with that little prank, but it was too late to close the lid now. Nope, now he had to sit next to his extremely fragrant mate unable to do anything about it for several more hours, while said mate no doubt plotted his return sortie.

The sekihan was cleared away and the staff began rolling dessert carts around the ballroom’s tables. Guests could choose from strawberry daifuku, haupia cupcakes, and wedding cookies dusted with confectioner’s sugar. In spite of the sugared almonds in their wedding favor bags and the promise of the majestic multi-tiered cake still waiting on its very own table nearby, many guests opted for one of each of all three options. They all looked too delicious to leave one out.

Shiro tried a soft haupia cupcake, and as the coconut filling hit his tongue, his mouth was suddenly flooded with the warm, salty taste of something else entirely. He opened his eyes and looked next to him. Lance licked coconut frosting off his fingers and blinked back in a mockery of innocence.

So it was going to be like that, was it? Shiro bided his time, watching Lance finish his own cupcake before lifting the daifuku to his lips. Lance’s teeth bit through the tender mochi wrapping and into the red bean paste and fresh strawberry inside, and that was the precise moment when Shiro shared a sense memory of tasting Lance’s slick. Lance’s cheeks heated beautifully as he swallowed roughly and aimed a simmering look at Shiro. They both wanted to go find that coat check room again, but there was another wedding in progress up there now, so that was a bust.

Both of them stared down the nutty sugar balls remaining on the dessert plates before them, then locked eyes. Each of them had a saucy memory locked and loaded. Who would fold? 

Their standoff was interrupted by a loud crunch. They looked over at Gorou, whose lips were sprinkled with powdered sugar. “What? Is it on my tie?” He brushed at his front and wound up transferring sugar which had been on his fingers.

They turned back to each other, but the sexy competition had pretty much lost its steam. Then suddenly the burgundy and gold swag that had been mounted on either side of the stage parted to reveal two giant screen TVs, both of which showed the same stand-by screen. The MC started speaking into the microphone.

“Gentlefolk, if I may have your attention please! We have a special message to share from a well-wisher who chose to remain anonymous. Direct your eyes to the television screens, we think you’ll enjoy this!”

The stand-by screens were replaced with a black screen with white text scrawling across it.

> DEAR BRIDE AND GROOM: YOU DO NOT KNOW ME AND IT IS FINE. I SPEAK FOR EVERYBODY HERE TO THANK YOU FOR RIDDING US OF A NIGHT TIME PEST. HE DOESN’T COME AROUND AS MUCH ANYMORE SINCE YOU DID US THE GREAT FAVOR. THEN YOU SCARED HIM AWAY DURING THE DAYTIME TOO AND FOR THIS WE ALL THANK YOU AND WISH YOU MANY BLESSINGS IN YOUR MARRIED LIFE! HAPPY WEDDING DAY!

Then the text faded out and was replaced with silent CCTV footage of a nearly empty parking garage at night. Into this peaceful urban scene rolled a vehicle that looked a lot like Hunk’s car, except it wasn’t orange because the monochrome camera rendered it kind of beige.

Lance sent an unintended buzz of alarm through the bond and Shiro suddenly realized what he must be looking at. Sure enough, the car parked at a perfect angle to see Keith and Kuro through the front windshield, and Lance and Rachel piling out of the backseat. Establishing shot set up, the footage was then sped up and Yakety Sax began to play over the ensuing action. 

The prank began playing out pretty much as Lance had described it. The guests giggled as they watched Lance and his sister skip down the ramp out of frame and Kuro transform into a ghoul in quick time. Then the screen split to show simultaneous low resolution footage taken from the inside of a noodle shop, which Shiro had not known was part of this scenario. The giggles turned into guffaws as Lance and Rachel made nuisances of themselves and skipped out of the restaurant and back into frame in the garage, after which the garage went back to full screen. As the pranksters went to different garage levels, the scenes cut to follow them.

Someone had put some work into editing this video. Shiro imagined whoever made this – probably someone or someones who worked for the shopping center’s security team – must have done it for their own amusement and then taken advantage of the opportunity to share it when they saw Keith with Hunk’s car in the garage earlier in the day.

On the screen, Kuro scared everybody who laid eyes on him into moments of slapstick as the pranksters set up their props, practiced their moves and laid in to wait for their victims. By the time Kuro flew out of the stairwell at the prank’s intended marks, the guests were laughing uproariously. When the two marks ran away at accelerated speed, someone in the audience screamed in laughter. Keith, possibly misreading the intent of that scream, shot up out of his throne chair and indignantly shouted, “He had it coming!” which only made the screamer scream-laugh even louder. Hunk got up and took him in his arms and whispered something in his ear that seemed to calm him down.

Hunk’s ability to overcome his own moods at need was ever a source of amazement to Shiro, because it was clear that in spite of whatever soothing things he was saying to Keith at the moment, he too had been laughing. Aware of the mortification of the omegas on either side of him, Shiro tried to hold back his own laughter to the point where tears rolled down his cheeks. Lance and Kuro both regarded him timorously, until Shiro couldn’t maintain a straight face anymore. Letting his laughter go, he grabbed his mate and his little brother up in each arm and planted a noisy kiss on the side of each one’s head.

If Tatsuo had a fit about this, Shiro was ready and willing to defend them over it.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shinji had positioned his chair closer to Tatsuo’s as soon as the video started. The first time he’d watched the video, he was sure he recognized the big-haired guy and wondered if such a coincidence could truly be possible, so he’d called Saeko and learned that Enjouji Kouzou did indeed own a loft in the downtown area of Los Angeles. Well, technically Kouzou’s father owned the loft, but it was Kouzou who lived in it. To think that they might encounter him years and an ocean away, and he still hadn’t changed his ridiculous hairstyle in all of that time.

Shinji had wondered for a moment if he should make that video disappear, then thought better of it. It was a gift to the bride and groom, after all, and not truly his to dispose of. Also, there was the humiliation of a longtime nemesis on the video, which Tatsuo just might find cathartic. Especially since the deed was accomplished by his own son. He had decided to entrust the responsibility of what to do with the video to Hina Garrett, who had been the one who’d seen fit to share it with the entire guest list.

｢They have avenged me.｣ Tatsuo’s voice was pitched low so that none but Shinji would hear it.

｢Yes｣ Shinji said. He was reasonably certain that the prank had been carried out for Keith’s sake rather than Tatsuo’s, but the end result was the same. ｢May you now truly believe that you are vindicated?｣

Tatsuo’s eyes were moon bright in the golden light of the ballroom. ｢Yes.｣

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The reception continued with Hunk presenting bouquets of pink roses in full bloom to Krolia and Akane, and Keith giving bouquets to Alana and Jin. Then Keith commandeered the mic again to tell his mom how much he loved her and had missed her and that his dad had never given up hope and he was sure that his dad was with them now, and by the end of it both of them were knuckling tears away from their eyes as the guests all agreed that the speech was the most touching they had ever witnessed. Nobody was surprised when the bride went backstage to compose himself, and his bridal party all followed him.

Backstage was another story where surprises were concerned.

“Lance, you didn’t!”

“I did, so deal with it!”

Keith laughed tearfully as he hugged Lance in a rocking motion that resulted in Mrs. Suzuishi giving them the verbal scalding they’d avoided back in Akane’s apartment.

With help from Mrs. Suzuishi and Coran (who were finally cooperating after a few helpings of sake) they got Keith out of his kimono and into the tuxedo. It had the slim fit black trousers with the black satin stripe of a traditional tuxedo, along with a studded-button black pleated shirt which was on the modern side of semi-formalwear for a male omega, but not pushing the envelope too hard. It was the jacket design where the tux truly shined – literally. Single-breasted with black satin peak lapels, the jacket was covered in red sparkly sequins that caught the light with every move Keith made. Keith shuffled into sheer black socks and a pair of black tuxedo loafers, busting a move in front of the gilt mirror while his bridal party cheered him on.

“If you’re gonna do that, we’ve gotta rock ‘n’ roll your hair,” Lance said.

Keith sat down on a padded bench and let Lance take the updo out of his hair and run some more product through it to encourage the wild waves to go all flippety.

“That looks great, Keith!” Lena said. 

“Just one more thing,” Coran said, and then he produced one of the golden orange pocket squares he’d brought as spares for the groom’s party, and tucked it into Keith’s breast pocket. “There. Now it’s perfect!”

It was just one little piece, barely visible, but it tied Keith’s look to not only his bridal party, but Hunk and his groom’s party too. It was perfect.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
The steady hum of table conversation hushed to whispers as the piano jazz on the sound system stopped again. The gold lanterns above dimmed and the chandeliers winked completely out. The uplighting turned from soft pink to a darker amber that, when combined with the firefly lanterns on the tables, gave a muted glow like candle light under a starry sky. Then orange light washed over the dance floor. Orange like a jack o’lantern, not like a sunset.

This was not what Hunk had discussed with Daigo and Hina when they’d planned the opening dances. They were supposed to go for orange like a sunset. This looked like a pumpkin dance was about to commence. Nadia’s voice came out of the sound system, sounding awfully chipper for what she was saying.

“Gentlefolk I can’t believe I forgot to introduce the bridal party earlier! It must have just slipped my mind!”

Hunk... had not been in the ballroom for that and not been apprised that it had been neglected. He looked over at the wedding party table where his groomsmen were sitting. They might have been flushed with guilty embarrassment, but it was kind of hard to tell in this lighting.

“Here they are! Lena, Kuro, Haruka, Lance, and our man of the hour Keith!”

A very familiar synthesized drum beat accompanied Lena’s leap onto the dance floor, where she launched right into a breakdance routine directly out of Hunk’s childhood memories. Hunk’s mother jumped to her feet clapping with the beat as the rest of the bridal party filed down the treads from the stage onto the dance floor. Keith looked staggeringly hot in a black and red tuxedo that sparked like fire under the wash lights.

_♬ How did you know! ‘Cause I never told! You found out I got a crush on you! No more charades, my heart’s been displayed! You found out I got a crush on you! ♬_

The bridal party added arm movements to the second ‘I got a crush on you’ where they hiked their thumbs at themselves, crossed their hands over their hearts, and then aimed finger guns at the onlookers. Keith added a wink as he aimed his finger guns right at Hunk where he stood behind the sweetheart table. Hunk clutched his heart and grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. When Keith had asked his mother for his favorite song on that shopping day the week before, Hunk hadn’t expected it to turn out like this.

Keith spun, slid, bounced, kicked, and did some incredibly flustering body rolls as the group moved through the same dance routine that Hunk had once memorized down to alternate footwork according to different band members and whether or not he had to move out of someone’s way in the kitchen. He remained in a state of sustained bliss as they danced through the whole routine. Keith broke out of the line to shuffle in his direction.

_♬ ...crush on you... ♬_

Hunk opened his arms and Keith strolled right into them.

“Surprise?”

“The best kind,” Hunk reassured him.

“Good.”

Keith’s eyes shone to rival his jacket as Hunk leaned down to kiss him. They stood there a while, Hunk running his hands up Keith’s back under that jacket, Keith lacing his hands where Hunk’s waist coat met his tuxedo pants.

Sometime during that moment, Nadia came back on the mic. “Gentlefolk, thank you for that applause! Let’s keep it going because it’s now time for the newlyweds’ first dance!”

Hunk leaned back in Keith’s embrace and caught his warm smile and bright eyes from up close, as the lighting changed temperature to sunset orange and a violin played the opening notes of the song he’d chosen. The vocalists sang ornamental ‘babys’ as Hunk led Keith toward the center of the dance floor. The piano took over from the violin as people crowded around the floor with their cameras out. Crouched at one corner was Mister Puig, going for a dramatic shot. Hunk guided Keith into a close embrace as the snare drum kicked in.

Keith grinned up at Hunk as he pulled him into a good old-fashioned sway.

“This okay?” Hunk asked.

“More than,” Keith nodded.

_♬ And I will never find another lover more precious than you, more precious than you ♬_

Hunk had mentally labored over this choice. When he’d asked Keith what he wanted, he’d just shrugged and said he’d missed both his proms so he had no romantic preconceptions about what the first dance should be like _“so just pick whatever you like, I’m sure it’ll be good.”_ Initially Hunk had been considering going for something that would allow him to show off his more debonair moves, but after that statement he’d just wished he could time travel back to his younger self like Peggy Sue, escort Keith to his senior prom and sweep him off his feet back then.

He couldn’t time travel. What he could do was give Keith a slow dance worth remembering. 

_♬ I really love you, so much ♬_

The wireless flash bulbs Mister Puig had set up around the ballroom went off like shooting stars as Hunk and Keith turned gentle circles around the room, wrapped up in each other.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ If I gave you diamonds and pearls ♬_

“So?” Keith knew Akane had something to say from the way she was smiling with only one corner of her mouth as they turned a two-step around the room. Across the floor, Hunk was dancing with Krolia.

_♬ Would you be a happy boy or a girl ♬_

“I knew you’d be okay, eventually,” Akane said. “You’re too stubborn to let anybody keep you down for long. I did worry you’d lose your soft and squishy side.”

“Geez.”

“But then that goofball showed up.”

She was talking about Lance.

“And I started thinking you’d make it without losing your soul to the struggle, even if you wouldn’t listen to anything I say. But then they shut down the place where you were making your rent.”

“Akane.”

“Just let me finish.” She sighed. “You got so tough, I got worried again. Just promise me if anything happens to set you back that hard again that you’ll let me help you this time.”

_♬ ...love is the master plan... ♬_

“Then you’ll be the one in trouble.” This was the same exact argument they hadn’t resolved the last time it had come up.

“I know what I’m risking.”

_♬ But all I can do is just offer you my love. ♬_

Keith looked into his cousin’s stern face and felt a paradigm shift as he realized that to turn down her offer of hypothetical aid might actually hurt her more than himself.

“Okay, twist my arm.”

Her half-smile broke into a full Manabu grin and she led him into a double outside turn.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Heaven must have sent you from above ♬_

Hunk’s parents took to the floor to “Your Precious Love” and danced with the newlyweds and Keith’s mother and cousin. They changed partners several times during the song’s runtime, giving all six dancers a chance to dance with each other.

After that song ended, the floor opened up to the rest of the wedding party, as the track changed to a selection that Shay had suggested, and to which nobody had objected. This song had the triple meter of a waltz, so Shay had thought it would be romantic for everyone to actually waltz to it, and Hunk had agreed. Keith had then requested that everybody be allowed to dance with their own partners, and Hunk agreed to that as well.

This was how Shiro had the unqualified pleasure of not only leading his own very capable spouse around the floor, but also, every so often out of the corner of his eye, catching his little brother being led in a box step by a straight-backed Pidge, who was concentrating so hard on her footwork that she might just cause a singularity to happen.

_♬ I don’t care what the world has to say, heaven knows that I’m in love ♬_

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lance asked softly enough not to be overheard by their neighbors.

“Just wondering if we can expect Athena to spring forth from Pidge’s brow.” Shiro smiled down at Lance as they swooped around the floor. 

The chiffon he was wearing was so perfect for this dance. Shiro spun him into a series of pivots just to watch it float around Lance’s legs. As they passed Pidge and Kuro again, Shiro heard Pidge mutter “Show off,” and couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Lance didn’t seem to notice.

“What are you thinking?” Shiro asked.

“I was just wondering about the engraving inside of our rings,” Lance admitted.

“Oh?” Shiro had been wondering when Lance would finally ask him about it.

“They only inscribed the month and year, not the day.” Lance’s brow pinched. “Do you think they forgot to add it?”

It must be difficult to imagine the engraver forgetting such a detail, considering the arrangements had been made by Tiffany’s, but it had been a rush job after all.

“No.” Shiro moved him into a quick dip and back to closed position. “I asked them to do that because I want to remember the entire month.”

Lance’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Shiro.” The wonderful bond sense reassured him they were happy tears.

_♬ I love you, I love you today ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hunk quietly told his people to tally up the receipts and change the consumption bar back to an open bar, in anticipation of opening up the curtains to reopen the reception so that employees on their breaks or coming off shift could rejoin the festivities. His guests probably wouldn’t notice any difference between the consumption bar and the open bar, but his pocketbook would. Before the curtains opened and the bouquet tossing commenced, Hunk and Keith were meeting Jin in the main dressing room at his request. Hunk had a feeling there was a gift in the offing. It would be just like his father to have gifted them something that required explaining, or that wouldn’t fit in the bed of his truck.

Gorou had been tasked with delivering the gifts registered at the gift table to the house in Culver City, and Haruka had volunteered herself to help him, with Kai along for extra muscle. Most of the rest of the wedding party were either busy with self-appointed tasks or giving their feet a break before the dancing portion of the evening got serious. Hina had begun spinning tunes for the guests in the ballroom, but so far the dance fever wasn’t contagious. Most of the guests were treating the break in the action like an intermission and rushing the bar. That was bound to change once the wedding party all returned to the dance floor.

Leia and Alana had gone into the omega dressing room to change into party dresses. Hunk heard them in there chattering away with Mrs. Suzuishi as he and Keith walked past hand in hand. When they entered the main dressing room, Hunk was surprised to see Shiro and Lance waiting in there along with Jin, Jiro and Akane.

“What’s up?” Keith directed his question at Lance.

“We got you prezzies,” Lance replied.

“More mantyhose?”

Hunk felt the heat of the blush all the way from the tips of his toes to the part in his hair.

‘Mantyhose?’ Jiro mouthed at Akane, who shrugged.

“Nope,” Lance said. “Our gift can wait, Mister Garrett should go first.”

Jin and Jiro looked at each other as if trying to decide which Mister Garrett was going to do the talking. 

Finally, Jin cleared his throat. “Right. You never know when a stroke of amazing luck is going to hit you out of the clear blue sky.” He paused with a smile. “Well, I guess you guys know. But the thing is, I recently also experienced an amazing stroke of luck.” He paused again, pursing his lips. “I guess it wasn’t so lucky for Mister Dewa.”

“Here.” Akane snatched a key fob off the vanity table she was leaned up against. “They got you a car.”

“What?” Keith reached out to catch the key fob after Akane tossed it at him. “A car?”

Hunk was starting to develop a mental picture of what was going on here. “Mister Dewa’s Corolla?” Elderly Mister Dewa lived on the same block as his parents, and the neighborhood squirrels lived in terror of his ten year-old Toyota Corolla.

“Yeah,” Jiro said grinning, “he blew a head gasket and wanted to junk it, so we made him an offer.” His eyes widened as he realized how what he’d just revealed probably sounded. “We fixed it though, don’t worry.”

“It runs like a top,” Akane agreed. “I test drove it, put it through its paces, believe me.”

“I believe you,” Keith said, still flabbergasted that he was now the proud owner of his very first used car.

“Dewa kept the trim in cherry condition,” Jiro said. “Shame he didn’t pay as close attention to what was under the hood.”

“He thought just because he never put more than five hundred miles on it annually meant that he never needed to get the engine tuned.” Jin shook his head. “You should never neglect your car’s engine like that.”

“I won’t.” Keith clutched the key fob against his chest like a baby chick. “I promise.”

Jin and Jiro both smiled, pleased with Keith’s reaction.

“Thank you so much,” Keith said, and then surprised everybody by giving first Jin and then Jiro a quick hug. He gave his cousin a longer hug. “Thanks for testing it.”

“Yeah, no sweat.” Akane let him go with a ruffle of his hair.

“Thanks, Dad,” Hunk said. “Uncle Jiro.” More hugs ensued, accompanied by manly back claps. “Thanks for helping them.” Hunk shook Akane’s hand. The woman had a powerful grip.

“I’ll help him any time he lets me,” Akane said, and sounded like she meant it. “Now let’s see what those two brought.”

Shiro and Lance had stood off to the side watching the byplay with smiling faces. Now that the attention was refocused on them, Shiro took his arm from around Lance’s shoulders to reach into his suit jacket’s inside pocket. “If you don’t like this gift, Lance didn’t know about it, so lay the blame on me.”

“Oh, I think Lance does know,” Lance said, eyebrow cocked.

Shiro paused in his rummaging to look over at him in surprise.

“You didn’t think I was gonna guess when I saw that giant pile of luggage at the department store?”

“I wasn’t sure if they had anything that was suitable for international baggage allowance,” Shiro admitted sheepishly.

“Oh my God.” Hunk felt a sudden thrill of insight into what that could possibly mean.

Of course he had planned on taking Keith on a honeymoon just as soon as they could get away. Considering how much of their budget had gone toward the wedding day (and money well spent, Hunk would never regret it) the trip would have probably been something modestly cozy, maybe a few nights at a B&B in a nearby beach town. But if Shiro had gone and done what Hunk now suspected he’d done, the honeymoon possibilities had just opened up from cozy to spectacular.

“I think they’re gonna like it, querido,” Lance said, rubbing Shiro’s arm.

Shiro took out a document envelope and held it toward Hunk and Keith with both hands. “I hope you don’t find this too presumptuous of me.”

Hunk accepted the envelope, also with both hands, and then opened the flap and slid the contents into Keith’s waiting hands. Keith fanned the documents so that Hunk could see all of them too. They were an assortment of travel vouchers: hotel, flights, rail passes, event tickets, even transportation to and from airports. The works, all centered on one locale.

“Paris,” Keith breathed. His hands holding the documents started to tremble. “Babe, we’re going to Paris.”

“The travel agent I worked with assured me the timelines were flexible,” Shiro said, “since I didn’t know what your schedules looked like or whether either of you need to get passports, but if you don’t want to go to Paris, I’m sure he can– ”

“We’re going to Paris,” Keith said, folding the documents against his chest like he was hiding a Royal Flush.

Hunk smiled at Shiro gratefully and then down at his bride. “A honeymoon in the City of Love sounds perfect to me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wedding ain't over yet. Dance party up next!


	21. Heartbeat Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance party gets underway. James finally meets an appropriate love interest. Lance gets some answers. Lotor is in for a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everybody who has read, kudoed and commented, you are all much appreciated! Shout outs to luminiferousaether, Inoshi and Feytality! Your comments make me so happy.

  
The DJ was spinning “Get Lucky” and Pidge was feeling like the luckiest girl in the world as she tried to keep up with Kuro on the dance floor. As soon as the groove had started Kuro had begun swiveling his hips in a mesmerizing fashion and Pidge had instantly known that nothing could tear her away from that sight barring an alien invasion (and maybe not even that).

_“Okay, he’s freestyling so there are no steps you have to memorize, you’re doing great honey.”_

Pidge had forgotten that she still had her mother in her ear. She’d been shaky on her mastery of the waltz and decided to take a page out of her brother-in-law’s book and keep the tutorial going by bluetooth mini-speaker. Now she was regretting that choice. 

_♬ So let’s raise the bar and our cups to the stars ♬_

She tried raising the roof to see if she could get an arm close enough to that ear to shake the receiver loose.

_“Oh honey, don’t do that, you’ll fall out of your blouse.”_

_“Keep doing that, Pidge!”_ Big brother had started poking his nose in as soon as he figured out what was going on. _“He can’t take his eyes off you!”_

Pidge glanced up Kuro’s sublimely swaying figure to find that he was indeed staring, his cheeks tinted a lovely berry pink. Pidge waved her arms in the air like she just don’t care, making the girls bobble back and forth. Kuro’s pupils were target locked.

_“I can’t believe you just encouraged her to do that. It’s rude to tease omegas.”_

As much as Pidge loved having Ryan in the family and felt like he was good for her brother, he needed to mind his own beeswax.

The track’s synthesized organ faded out and was replaced by synthesized strings, as the DJ smoothly transitioned to a new selection.

_“Oh! I know this one,”_ said Colleen. _“This song has a line dance honey, I’ll come out and show you.”_

If there was a higher power in existence, Pidge silently begged for their intervention.

_“If I can have everybody’s attention please!”_ Right about where the track’s vocals would be expected to start, the DJ’s voice spoke over the instrumental part of the song instead. _“The time has arrived for playing catch with flowering plants, so if you want a piece of that, then come on out to the dance floor!”_

Kuro took Pidge’s hand, and she looked up at him as he smiled.

“We’ve already caught ours,” he said, then looked uncertain. “Unless you wanted to try again?”

“I’d only want to catch it for you,” Pidge admitted, and his smile returned, sweeter than any flower.

They walked to the sidelines hand in hand as suddenly the dance floor was crowded with a lot more people than Pidge had even noticed during the dinner. Some of them were in the hotel’s uniforms. She looked around the room’s perimeter and saw that the curtains had been drawn, once again revealing the Wintergarden surrounding the ballroom. The instrumental was still playing over the sound system. The DJ, an alpha woman who was related to Hunk, must have remixed the song specifically for this moment.

_“First up is the groom! Whoever catches his broccoli bouquet might get lucky themselves! Feel free to serve it as crudités later if you want to, it’s seriously just broccoli!”_

Hunk danced down the stage treads wielding a bouquet of broccoli florets over his head as the guests laughed and clapped. The crowd on the dance floor shifted as Hunk turned his back on them. He dramatically wound up his throwing arm as the song’s vocals finally kicked in.

_♬ Here I am, praying for this moment to last, living on the music so fine, borne on the wind, making it miiiiiine ♬_

Hunk tossed the broccoli over his head, where it appeared to crowd surf before disappearing in the melee and then reappearing in the grip of none other than James Griffin, who yelled in triumph. The crowd gave him a round of applause, their degree of enthusiasm depending on how much they’d wanted to catch it themselves.

_“Now it’s the bride’s turn, so if you’re looking for some extra luck in your love life, get ready!”_

The crowd shifted again as Keith descended the stage treads with his orchid bouquet dangling from his upraised hand. He grinned at the excited people waiting eagerly. Then he turned his back and took a couple of practice swings of the bouquet’s cord over his head as the song’s chorus played a reprise. He surprised everybody by letting it fly a full measure before Hunk had done. There was a mad scramble on the dance floor, before it finally parted to reveal a beautiful female omega in hotel livery with most of the orchids clutched in her hands, facing off against that twit Saint Raible, who had a crushed blossom in his fist and a murderous look in his eyes.

“Farla caught it!” said another employee, pointing to the girl with the bouquet.

“She did,” said a guest in a lavender party dress, who looked a bit forlorn that she hadn’t caught it. “I saw it myself.”

_“She’s got two witnesses,”_ said the DJ. _“Let’s have a round of applause for Farla!”_

The applause came fast and loud, and not least from James, who had the big eyes and shoulders-back posture he got whenever he was about to go hit on somebody inappropriate. Pidge was about to go and stop him, when Kuro’s hand tightened in hers.

“Farla is very nice and very smart,” he said. “Mister Griffin could do much worse than to court her.”

“She’s not married, is she?” Because that’s what usually turned James’s motor for reasons Pidge had yet to work out.

“No, she is unclaimed.”

How about that. Miracles really could happen.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Looks into my eyes takes me to the clouds above ♬_

Never before had James seen such beautiful doe eyes, gazing up at him serenely from such a pretty oval face. It was almost enough to make him forget his realization earlier in the evening that one of the most embarrassing incidents of his youth had most likely been a prank pulled by the bride.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Since you have such lovely manners and I still have thirty minutes left of my dinner break,” Farla said, placing her small work-roughened hand in his, “why not?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Don’t you worry if you can’t dance, let the music move your feet ♬_

Hina looked down from her perch stage right to the dance floor below and was pleased to see that her plan to pack the dance floor was working. She’d hoped if she played this song, Keith’s honor attendant would take care of the rest, and her hope had not been in vain. The conga line picked up more dancers with every pass around the dance floor, eventually getting so long that Lance had to aim it in a weaving pattern to keep it going. And like the human Energizer bunny leading the way, it did keep going.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Down, down, do your dance, do your dance ♬_

Members of the Garrett family knew a lot of line dances. The shuffles, the slides, the novelty dances with goofy names, they knew them all. And they did them all. And they got others to do them, too. Even Haruka and Kai got roped into it.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that Keith had changed into pants. He kind of felt bad for everybody who’d tried to get low in dresses and frocks. But if anybody had gotten film of Lance doing the Macarena earlier he wouldn’t feel bad about asking for his copy. He’d pay cash money for that.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ a little bit softer now, a little bit softer now ♬_

No matter how many weddings Gyrgan officiated in his hopefully long life, he would never get tired of watching grown adults who were not yet schnockered enough to be past caring try to figure out how to incrementally lower themselves during the breakdown of “Shout” without completely losing their dignity. Meanwhile, the kids on the dance floor always just went for broke.

“What are you doing standing off to the side?”

Suddenly the fiercely lovely mother of the bride was right there in front of him.

“Oh, I don’t know– ”

“Come on!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled with surprising strength, so he abandoned his beer and went with her.

_♬ A LITTLE BIT LOUDER NOW, A LITTLE BIT LOUDER NOW ♬_

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ We were victims of the night, the chemical physical kryptonite ♬_

Colleen felt a wistful smile steal over her face as she watched both of her children dance with their partners on the now-jammed dance floor. Matt and Ryan proved they knew what they were doing out there, pulling out jitterbug moves as smoothly as if they had the dance floor all to themselves. A casual observer would never guess that they’d spent the better part of the previous two days squabbling. Pidge did not have the advantage of dance training that her brother did, but she had an eager and curious mind, and young Kuro was proving himself a patient instructor. He needed to be, since Pidge had removed her bluetooth earpiece so that Colleen could no longer give her pointers.

“They grew up fast, didn’t they.”

Colleen turned in surprise to find her own husband standing there, tall and handsome in the brown three piece suit he wore whenever he gave a guest lecture.

“Sam! How did you get here?”

“I drove.” He laughed when she smacked at his shoulders, and said, “A little birdie told me I might be able to steal a dance from you at this time and in this place. So, what do you say?”

“I say, shut up and dance with me, Mister Holt.”

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Holt.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ If we show up we gon’ show out, smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy ♬_

Marco caught up to his little brother on the dance floor, and proceeded to egg him on into a dance-off that went into overtime after Jiro and Gorou joined in.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Where’d you get that body from! I got it from my daddy! ♬_

Shinji stood close to Tatsuo as they ordered highballs at the open bar. Tatsuo’s fascinated attention was on the dance floor, where the spectacle of people in full formalwear getting down like they were at a discotheque had reached its zenith. Not just the expected young people either, but older adults were also letting deportment slide. Young Gorou risked his kidneys to high-heeled shoes by doing the worm across the dance floor, and was promptly joined in this perilous endeavor by the groom’s uncle. 

Shinji had participated in some of the line dances earlier in the evening. Tatsuo had excused himself from the dance floor after being a reluctant participant in the conga line, and Shinji had not attempted to persuade him to change his mind. In his travels he had been to his fair share of wedding receptions structured similarly to this one and it could get a bit much even for him. Tatsuo had already seen elements of this custom in action at Shiro’s wedding reception, but on a much smaller scale and with a group of people more inclined to social dancing than to the freestyle improvising that even Kuro had abandoned himself to at this point of the evening. There were hidden advantages to the more familiar custom of having the wilder parties at separate venues, in that it was easier for guests to choose which party to RSVP ‘yes’ according to how much stimulation they could handle.

“Do they never save this for the after-party?” Tatsuo asked.

“They may continue like this all the way to the cake serving ceremony.” 

Shinji had been to a couple of weddings in Miami that had crazy hours and one in New Orleans that had a second line to the reception hall, but generally his experience was that once the dancing became this silly it would remain that way until the DJ or band decided to slow it down in time for the send-off.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Hina turned to greet the ginger-haired cutie who had entered her domain. He was one of Keith’s friends. She didn’t remember his name, but she’d seen him on social media quite a lot over the last few days.

“Are you taking requests?” he asked.

“Within reason,” she responded. Between her own license and the hotel’s she had a pretty sweet selection to choose from, but it wasn’t an infinite playlist.

Ginger cutie leaned forward to whisper in her ear, and she grinned. “I think I can accommodate you for that one.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ before you came into my life I missed you so bad ♬_

It was a different remix than the one that had been played at Shiro’s wedding, but the overall effect was just as entertaining. It wasn’t long before Pidge and Kuro had a circle of admirers around them clapping encouragement and singing along. After making his request, Matt had made sure he and Ryan were well positioned to snag spots in front of the crowd. Kuro was right on the beat, the kid could sure enough dance. Pidge... was not on the beat, but she was damn sure athletic, throwing high kicks and doing the splits. 

Then she jumped into a handspring and accidentally flashed the entire room like it was Mardi Gras.

“Katie!”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ I don’t know what I’m to say, I’ll say it anyway ♬_

“The lighting is so dim in here, I don’t think anyone saw much.” Sam insisted on dancing right in Colleen’s eye line for where Pidge and Kuro had resumed less acrobatic dancing across the floor. “Anyway, she’s alpha, so she didn’t break any indecency laws.”

“I hate that excuse.” Every time she moved to get a glimpse of those two, he moved to intercept. “She’s seventeen.”

“With a job, an apartment, and a dog,” Sam reminded her. “And probably soon a long-distance boyfriend. She’s happy, carina.”

“I wish she’d be happy with a bra on.” Colleen had tried improvising a modesty panel out of napkins but had not been successful in getting Pidge to wear it.

“Cara mia.” Sam wrapped his unfairly long arms around Colleen’s shoulders and drew her near. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re suffering from empty nest syndrome.”

“I am not!” Colleen knew it was true even as she denied it, and felt her tear ducts filling. “Even Bae Bae is gone.”

Sam coddled her close to him and she let him. “I think I have a remedy for the last part, at least.” He took his phone out of his jacket pocket and thumbed open his picture album. “Look at this little guy.”

It was a picture of a brindle puppy so young his eyes were still blue.

“His mother and the rest of his litter are at the same shelter where we found Bae Bae once upon a time. They said we can take him home as soon as he’s cleared all their required vet checks.”

“He’s adorable.” Colleen leaned on Sam’s shoulder as they gazed at the picture together. “Does he have a name?”

“I was going to let you name him.”

Colleen smiled past her tears. “He looks like a Gunther to me.”

“Then Gunther he shall be.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ ...and time can do so much, are you still MIIIIINE! ♬_

Gyrgan patted a weeping Coran on the back as he turned him in slow circles across the dance floor. “There, there.”

“I’m sorry,” Coran sniffled. “It’s just that weddings make me so emotional!”

“It’s quite alright,” Gyrgan said. “Happens to the best of us.”

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to find a tall alpha woman in a purple trumpet gown standing there. “May I cut in?”

Coran gasped at the sight of her. “Nanette!”

Gyrgan knew when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em, and this was a time to walk away. “Of course.”

He stood aside with a brief bow, and then indulged himself in a moment of watching the two of them twirl about the floor, a handsome couple in the autumn of their lives. Gyrgan had never meant to become a confirmed bachelor. He'd lost the love of his life at a young age, and then fate seemed to conspire against him maintaining an acquaintanceship with an appealing love interest for long enough to consider changing his Facebook status. There was another tap on his shoulder and this time when he turned around it was the mother of the bride handing him a glass of prosecco.

“That was a nice thing you just did,” she said.

“Yes, well.” Gyrgan hid his face in the drink. “I am capable of being a very nice man.” Being called out as a gentleman could feel rather awkward sometimes.

Krolia just nodded and sipped her own prosecco, keeping her own counsel.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Wow.”

Hunk looked as awestruck as Keith felt.

“I know, right?”

They stood in front of their wedding cake as bright flashes of light went off around them from guests and Mister Puig taking pictures. The cake was seven tiers, and not small ones either. Enrobed in satin-smooth fondant and trimmed in pearls of royal icing, with a glorious cascade of sugar plumeria rolling down one side, the wedding cake was simply magnificent.

“Our moms made this,” Hunk said.

“It’s blowing my mind,” Keith admitted.

“We made you, too,” Krolia said, resting a hand on her son’s shoulder, “and that was much harder.”

Alana stepped up on Hunk’s other side and made a ‘mind blown’ ‘splosion face at him.

“Point taken, Mom,” Hunk said with a wry grin. Then he turned a softer one on Keith. “Ready to eat some cake?”

Keith lifted the cake knife. “Let’s do it.” 

Traditionally Hunk was supposed to hold the knife and Keith was supposed to daintily lay his hands over Hunk’s while he cut it, but fuck that noise. Keith wanted to hold the knife. Ergo, Keith was the one holding the knife while Hunk wrapped his big warm hands around his grip on said knife.

Keith purred. He couldn’t help it.

Together, they sliced a wedge from the bottom tier. Hunk carefully extracted the wedge with the cake server, and Keith held out the plate for him. The interior of the cake was a pastiche of colors and textures, and when Hunk held out a forkful for Keith to taste, he found it a luscious balance of sweet and tart flavors, buttery to the tooth with a velvety crumb. Keith held out a fork in turn for Hunk to taste and watched his reaction as the flavors hit his tongue. Guests began tapping their glasses of champagne to induce the newlyweds to kiss, which they happily obliged.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Wonder in your world, sparkle in my heart ♬_

“Are you certain it is alright to leave now?” 

Tatsuo’s consternation was understandable. At the weddings he’d been to, including his own, when one left a wedding reception venue, it was because all were leaving that venue.

“After the cake is served it is socially acceptable for guests to begin leaving if they so wish.” In fact, Shinji would lay odds that Hina was spinning the currently playing song just for the benefit of the older guests who might prefer for this to be their last dance for the evening, though he knew better than to say anything to Tatsuo that would suggest he was less than spry. “Look, there are others already thanking the hosts for their hospitality, we are not the only ones saying goodnight.”

“What about Kuro-chan?”

“He is a member of the wedding party,” Shinji reminded him. “He is obligated to stay until the send-off.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ Boy, your lips taste like a night of champagne ♬_

“I wish we could stay here forever,” Kuro whispered, making Pidge want to kiss him again.

They’d sneaked away from the dance floor up to one of the balconies over the entrance hall into the Wintergarden, where Pidge had felt compelled to explain to him why the pomander he’d carried during the ceremony was colloquially known as a kissing ball. They could still hear the music from the ballroom, at a slightly softer volume, and so could the guests from the other wedding who occasionally wandered past their nook on their way to and from whatever private assignations they were engaged in. From the way they danced by, Pidge was inclined to believe that most of them were engaged in taking a break from the DJ the other wedding had hired, who seemed to be playing a steady stream of breakup anthems. Bits and pieces of music escaped whenever a guest opened the door to that reception hall, and sure it was catchy but what sort of cynical nonbeliever-in-love would dare play that kind of stuff at a wedding? The fact that Pidge would have found that funny a mere week ago was not completely lost on her.

“I want to court you, Kuro,” Pidge blurted out. “In case I didn’t already make that abundantly clear.”

Kuro smiled, dark eyes sparkling in the low light. “I accept your suit.” Such a wonderful smile he had. “But Pidge, how will we court when we live so far apart from each other?”

“I have to believe that if we’re meant to be, then we’ll find a way.” Then Pidge took his lovely face in her hands and kissed his soft lips again. His beautiful scent surrounded them like the fantasy garden that the room below was supposed to evoke.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ So all I ask is for you to come away with me in the night ♬_

“It’s alright.” Farla turned at the entrance to the loggia. “You don’t need to walk me out, I’m in a carpool and they’re waiting for me in the lobby.”

James went with her anyway. She’d come back for one more dance, and he was glad. Now he regretted the impending loss of her company. “I want to see you again.”

“That’s certainly possible.” She smiled up at him as they approached a sitting area in the lobby where several of her coworkers discreetly waited for her to join them. “After all, you do know where I work.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
_♬ I’ve had the time of my liiiife ♬_

About three-quarters of the wedding party were taking a(nother) champagne break when a commotion on the dance floor caught their attention. Allura, a vision of sophistication in a royal blue tuxedo, stood waiting in a stance somewhat reminiscent of a wide receiver ready for a pass. Across the dance floor, Shay leaned forward like a sprinter at the starting block.

“Um,” Shiro set his champagne glass down on the table, “should we be trying to stop them?”

“No, don’t worry,” Hunk waved him off. “I’ve seen them pull this off way drunker than they are right now. They’ll be fine, just watch.”

Out on the dance floor, Coran shouted “Make a hole!” and the dancers who hadn’t already cleared out of the way moved just in time, as Shay sprang forward. She launched herself at her mate and everybody held their breath for a long moment as she went gracefully airborne. Allura caught her to the audible relief of all present, and then strutted around with Shay lifted over her head in an impressive victory lap as the sighs turned to cheers.

_“That’s why she was our high school football team’s MVP three years running, folks.”_ Hina started speaking as the last ‘owe it all to you’ began its fade out. _“Let’s keep that team spirit going and come on out to the dance floor to join Hunk and Keith for the last dance.”_

A magical synth chord burst out on the first line.

_♬ All I want to get is a little bit closer ♬_

Keith was singing along as he grabbed Hunk by the hand and pulled him onto the dance floor, with the wedding party right on their heels. Hina came down off the stage, and Pidge and Kuro reappeared from wherever they’d hidden themselves away. Coworkers ran in as the word spread that the last dance was happening. There were enough guests still present that the dance floor was packed again by the time the chorus opened up the song to full volume.

_♬ I’m the type who won’t get oh so critical ♬_

Keith could dance, and Hunk well knew it. He’d seen Keith show his stuff at various styles, from club moves to formal, but what he was doing right in that moment was truly uninhibited. Like that first discovery of pop music as more than background noise to life, and that it was fun to move to it, before self-consciousness arrived to govern those movements.

_♬ Here comes the heat before we meet a little bit closer ♬_

Keith’s joy was infectious. Hunk gave himself over to it completely.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“I’d like everyone to move over to the Wintergarden to see our newlyweds off into a phenomenal future!” Nadia was back on the mic. “Those paper cones of rose petals in your favor bags have been waiting for this moment! Grab them and line up by the steps all the way up to the loggia, the newlyweds will be coming past you through there!”

“Should I be doing something?” Keith was at the center of a group hug from all of his bridal party, so his voice came out sounding kind of muffled. “I feel like I should be doing something.” The ballroom looked like it had been marauded by party pirates, there were cranes that he wanted to keep still on tables and there were changes of clothes still in the dressing rooms, and had anybody settled up with the Suzuishis yet?

“You should be preparing to go on your honeymoon,” Haruka said. Her voice also sounded kind of muffled. Somebody’s arm was around Keith’s ears.

“Yes, you should go now and see what we did to your car!” Kuro’s muffled voice sounded very eager. Words one never wanted to hear from a teenager were being addressed to Keith. If Akane was close enough to be hearing this, she must be laughing her face off.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Lance said. His voice was the closest of all, on account of being the fastest to leap into action with the hugging. “We got it, that’s what we’re here for.”

“Are you sure?” Lena’s voice was somewhere between Keith’s shoulder blades. “Because it’s kind of past my bedtime.”

“I want you and Manny on crane duty.” That was Hina, somewhere just outside the huddle. “Find every last one of them, if you find any damaged ones put them in a separate pile.”

Lena gasped, a short burst of air against Keith’s back. “But there’s like, a thousand and one!”

“You better hop to it then, missy.”

The bridal party huddle broke apart and Keith was turned around to find himself engulfed in a two-way hug from his mother and the cousin who’d fostered him when she couldn’t be there.

“If you need anything.”

“I’ll call Mom, I promise.”

“I already rode his ass about it.”

Ladylike language as always from Akane, but it reminded Keith of something important. It had not been an easy decision to come to. There was a part of him that was still reluctant to do this, but it was time. He leaned back as much as two sets of arms would allow.

“Mom, I need to give you back your scooter.”

The poleaxed look on his mother’s face gave him a moment of doubt, but the squeeze from Akane standing behind him reassured him again that he was making the right choice.

“Don’t you need it for work?”

“I did, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you left it to me.” She may never fully comprehend how much it had meant to him to have something of hers that had given him such freedom of mobility. “But now I think you need it more than I do.”

“You have a noble heart.” Tears dropped from eyes as blue-grey as the ones Keith saw in the mirror every day. “I’m so proud of you.”

Keith blinked aside some tears of his own. “Thanks Mom.”

Then, in a flurry of hugs and well wishes, Keith was passed from one guest to another until finally he was standing before the person this whole day had been leading him closer to.

“Hey.” Hunk was still in his shirtsleeves and waist coat. The tuxedo jacket had been deemed beyond the on-site dry cleaner’s capabilities and sent out to a larger facility. At some point during the dancing Hunk had rolled his sleeves up his brawny forearms, his warm brown skin an appealing contrast against crisp white cotton. 

Keith grinned up at him. “Hey yourself.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He offered his hand. Keith took it.

“Yeah.”

Hand in hand they broke into a run up the steps into the Wintergarden, where their friends and family waited to pelt them with rose petals. Laughing as petals got stuck in their clothes and hair, they jogged up the steps to the loggia and out through the lobby. Vince met them near the front desk with an aluminum crane and a grin, both of which he offered to a confused Keith.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the dinner you wanted to save,” Hunk said. “Thanks Vince.”

Keith had filled up on cake the minute he got the chance, but he felt that soft spot he reserved just for Hunk start to melt a little more at the sheer thoughtfulness as he thanked Vince and they continued toward the front doors. They found Bii-Boh-Bi waiting with Hunk’s Subaru at the valet station.

“What the– ” Hunk stopped at the sight. 

Keith wasn’t sure if it was the decorations or the fact that Bii-Boh-Bi had collected it from the garage for them which had reaped that reaction. Although they had a copy of Hunk’s keys in case of emergencies, he didn’t usually use the valet service, not wanting to risk the station being left unattended just to accomplish a task he could do himself.

“It’s cuter than I was expecting,” Keith admitted. He’d been expecting tin cans and whipped cream. Maybe some crepe paper streamers.

Instead, there was garlanded bunting across the hood, pull bows everywhere, and a little flag jauntily waving from the shark fin antenna. As they circled the vehicle together, they found the ‘Just Married’ decal on the back window.

“It is cute,” Hunk said as he opened the passenger door for Keith. “We’re gonna get honked at all the way home.”

“Let ‘em honk.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
They did get honked at all the way home. Hunk wondered what went through people’s minds when they honked at a ‘just married’ car. He liked to think it was good will and congratulations, but he had a feeling it was something more salacious. He doubted any of them really believed they were chasing away evil spirits.

There was another car waiting in the garage when the door went up. It took Hunk a second to remember that they didn’t have a surprise visit from a feisty old man to deal with, that the car they were looking at now belonged to Keith. The car’s black and white temporary tag had a gold star bow stuck to its license plate frame. 

Keith ran his hands over the rear spoiler after getting out of the Crosstrek. “It’s red.”

Hunk smiled to see that he was happy with it. “You want to take it out for a spin?”

“Later for that.” Keith turned a coruscating look of intent upon him. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to take for a spin.”

Hunk’s inner alpha started doing the You’re Awesome emote as he let them in through the back patio into the foyer. When they stopped in the kitchen to put Keith’s aluminum crane in the fridge, they could see through the cased opening into the living room that there were presents piled up around the couch. The ribboned stacks shone with silver and gold wrapping paper, with some red peeking through here and there, and the occasional burst of white tissue poking out of gift bags. Scattered around the wrapped presents were unwrapped pieces of luggage in various shapes and sizes, but all of them the same chocolate brown with lighter brown trim, showing they had come from the same collection.

“Holy shit,” Keith said. “I thought Lance was just being dramatic.”

“We’re going to need to throw a party soon to thank all of these people,” Hunk said. If the guests had been shopping from their registries, then they might now have enough supplies to throw a real humdinger of a backyard barbecue.

“Put that on the back burner.” Keith stepped around Hunk to toss his sparkly red jacket over the back of the couch and then stepped up to pop the buttons on Hunk’s waist coat. “I can see your brain going from zero to sixty making plans.” He smiled as he concentrated on loosening Hunk’s cravat. “I love how you’re always thinking ahead about all the ways you can give back.” His eyes lifted, smoky and intense. “But right now I want to be the only one you’re thinking about giving anything to.”

BBQ plans poofed away like hickory smoke as Hunk picked Keith right up off the floor and carried him to the master bedroom. Keith locked his arms around his neck with a smirk of victory on his beautiful face. Hunk set him down at the foot of the bed, and Keith shoved the waistcoat off his shoulders, leaning up for a kiss while his fingers expertly worked Hunk’s shirt buttons loose. By the time they came back up for air, Hunk’s shirt was on the floor and Keith had somehow houdinied out of his own pants at the same time.

“You constantly amaze me,” Hunk panted.

“Not planning on stopping.”

Then Keith gave Hunk a push that sent him backward onto the duvet covered mattress, and boy was he glad he’d taken the time to freshen up all of the bedding earlier. Everything smelled like lavender laundry detergent; not so much as a hint of the alphas and betas who had used this room to change clothes in a haphazard rush that very morning. Then everything smelled like Keith as he crouched over Hunk.

“Hi.” Keith’s eyes gleamed like the pearl adorning his left hand.

Hunk ran his palms up Keith’s bare thighs. Good sweet lord, he was beautiful. “Hey.”

Keith pressed his body to Hunk’s and kissed him again while his talented fingers worked open the tab on Hunk’s waistband. Hunk skimmed his palms up intending to return the favor by undoing the buttons on Keith’s shirt when his hands encountered slick. Slippery, fragrant, he couldn’t resist following the trail to its source. Keith pressed back against his questing fingers as his own fingers found Hunk’s girth and drew it out.

“Mine,” Keith said, almost snarling it, before rearing up and taking all of Hunk within himself in one determined bounce. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Are you okay baby?” Hunk was kind of astonished that he still had the capacity for intelligible speech. Keith was like a velvet vise around his dick; his warm, sweet smell as potent as a shot of Frangelico.

“Mmmm.” Keith lifted himself on his quads, long thigh muscles tensing beautifully, long neck cording magnificently as he threw his head back. “I’m great.” And then he slid back down again. And again. And again. 

It was all Hunk could do to hold on for the ride. He spared one hand to undo the buttons on Keith’s shirt, parting the curtain of cloth on Keith’s torso muscles moving in heavenly rhythm, feeling those muscles tense and release under the investigation of his palm. Keith clenched around him as the base of his cock began to expand. Soon Keith wasn’t able to rise as far, and his eyes widened as the precipice they were on became clear, his rhythm faltering.

“Bite me first,” Hunk said. He couldn’t have articulated exactly why he knew that was the right thing to say. He just felt it, and it was.

Keith lunged for the crook of his shoulder as he clamped down around Hunk’s knot, his teeth finding their mark as Hunk’s release found its home. Hunk might have shouted, he wasn’t sure. Pleasure and pain chased and became one, coming back around to pleasure with a tinge of something bittersweet.

“Are you okay?” Keith’s voice sounded like it was coming from both above him and within his own chest. “Hunk? Babe? Talk to me!” A compact palm was lightly smacking his cheek and a strong-boned cheek was under his palm. There was an old Pixies song running through his head, and then he realized that it was actually running through Keith’s head.

“It’s okay.” He tried to smile reassuringly at Keith and realized at once that Keith was not reassured because Hunk looked spaced-out, even though he couldn’t actually see himself so he had no idea why he knew that. “I’m just a little loopy, that’s all.”

Keith cocked his head and then peered closer at his eyes, checking out his pupils. “You’re tripping balls.”

Hunk giggled. “Yeah, I sure am.”

Keith made a chuffling noise that Hunk recognized as relief, as he relaxed and began methodically cleaning the fresh wound with his tongue. Feeling mighty content and with a warm and sated omega laying on top of him, Hunk felt his eyelids sliding closed. He was just going to rest them for a minute.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Finally happy with the healing state of his bite mark, Keith tucked his face into the crook of Hunk’s strong neck. He had married a cuddly man. Even in sleep, Hunk’s arms had come up around Keith, large hands cradling his behind so that he didn’t slide sideways on his knot. He was as cozy as a mug of hot chocolate, his chest rising and falling evenly. Keith started purring.

He could feel Hunk’s life force now, radiant as the sun, and was sure he could find Hunk anywhere if he had to. He was gaining a sense of the depth of Hunk’s slumber, and knew that his ability to read Hunk’s emotions would strengthen over time even without a return bite. That sense would come on stronger and faster if he allowed a return bite, though. If the stuff he’d picked Matt’s brain about was accurate, then Hunk had received a strong and immediate read on Keith which would begin fading fast without a return bite. The idea of it fading was bugging Keith more than he’d thought it would, considering Hunk could already read him very well without any claim bonding booster shot.

He’d watched his father trying to bear up from being separated from his mother, and for a long time he’d questioned if claim bonding was something he’d ever want to inflict on himself. He’d feared it would be a choice forced upon him, a fear shared by many omega. The fact that claim marks made under duress usually faded was cold comfort, as that time lived while waiting for them to heal could not be restored. He’d wondered how a person with a wanted claim mark could endure being separated after such an overwhelming bond had been forged, if it somehow made them less careful of their own lives. The news outlets loved publishing puff pieces about mated pairs dying of old age within minutes of each other, but Keith was well aware that for most people one mate outlived the other one. 

Now he’d just imposed the possibility of such a fate on Hunk. A tear slid down Keith’s cheek and plopped on Hunk’s warm skin. Hunk immediately snorted awake, full-fringed lashes fluttering as his eyes opened and found Keith.

“What’s wrong?”

Keith tucked a lock of shiny black hair behind Hunk’s ear. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“Aww, babe.” Hunk’s voice was thick with sleep as he cuddled him closer. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, I promise. It hurt for like, a second, but the pain is gone.”

In a sudden rush of emotion, Keith knew what he wanted. When he felt this strongly, he never questioned it. He just went with it.

“Bite me.”

“Bite...” Big brown eyes blinked to full awareness. “Right now?”

“Yes.” Keith sat up and bounced. They were still connected, and while Hunk had started to go quiescent, he was hung like a horse, so Keith didn’t bounce very far. “Right now.” 

“I’ll give you everything I’ve got, love.” Hunk repositioned them so that they lay face to face on their sides, shifting one muscular arm underneath Keith’s side to easily support him so that he could keep one leg comfortably hiked over Hunk’s hip. “Anything I can give, I will.” Hunk began to move his hips in tantalizing little circles as his free hand found Keith’s dick.

Keith was well aware that the vernacular term for an omega’s penis was ‘cocklet’ and that an omega’s penis was statistically smaller than a beta’s, much less an alpha’s, but he was never going to refer to his own penis by a name that implied that it was cute, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Not even if it did happen to be cute.

Soon Hunk returned to full tumescence and Keith became too distracted to have an inner monologue. Hunk came from a family of mesomorphs, but it wasn’t just his muscles that were huge. His large, warm palm stroked Keith with a skill bolstered by practice, their weeks of make out sessions bearing the most delightful fruit. Keith’s head lolled back and Hunk’s lips found his neck. Keith’s erogenous zones were firing on all cylinders, a steady croon rising from his throat.

Warm waves of pleasure lapped upward and outward from the attention being laved on his dick and from deep within. It was like lying in a tide pool at the height of summer right when the water began its return trip to shore. The rocking built sultrily, gradually, until Keith thought it might carry him away into a sea of ecstasy. And then it did, and somehow Hunk knew the exact right moment to let his teeth sink in as Keith’s body rode out the longest series of sequential orgasms he’d experienced in years of a very active sex life.

The bite hurt, of course it did, but as promised the peaks of pleasure outlasted the pain. As the rapturous waves eddied back to equilibrium, Keith became aware of a warm tongue lapping at his neck, as he tasted copper-salty skin upon his tongue. He opened his eyes and felt the whiskery sensation of lashes flickering against his shoulder.

The lovely tongue paused its ministrations. “Keith?”

“Hmmm?” Keith turned his wobbly head and got a close up view of Hunk’s concerned eyes. “You have pretty eyes just like a deer’s eyes.” He pushed Hunk’s bangs back from his forehead and smiled. “You can call me Flower if you want to.”

Hunk smiled back and Keith felt the squeeze of affection in his own chest. “That’s nice of you to offer but I think I’ll still keep on calling you Keith.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Before they left, Hunk and Keith had given permission for the guests remaining at the end of the night to take home the centerpieces on their tables if they wanted to, barring the cranes. Fortunately the guest list had thinned out enough by then that the floral arrangements and the firefly lanterns were peaceably distributed. At the wedding party table, Kuro made a request for the firefly lantern. Everybody was sure he intended to give it to Pidge. Nobody minded.

Shay requested the floral arrangement to take back to the room she was sharing with Allura, and again, nobody minded. Since much of the night’s food had been made to order and much of what had been premade had been eaten, there wasn’t much in the way of leftovers, but what there was would be going home with Alana, who planned to reuse it for a post-wedding brunch the following day. Also, she had the most freezer space available for it, so it only made sense. Krolia would be taking charge of the recovered paper cranes to put into a decorative box and give back to the couple at the brunch. 

Lance had been given temporary custody of the rose garland and firefly lantern from the sweetheart table, as well as Keith’s street clothes which had been left behind in the dressing room. He carried it all through the Wintergarden inside of two large bags requisitioned from the hotel’s gift shop, with Shiro right behind him carrying their own wedding favor bags. As they strode up the steps into the loggia and turned to exit toward the lobby, they discovered that they were not actually the last guests to leave. A tall beta couple stood waiting in front of the exit, the woman pacing nervously, the man watching her pensively. It was Matt and Pidge’s parents.

“Sam. Colleen.” Shiro smoothly sidestepped around Lance to get in front of him. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight. Did you leave something in the ballroom? We can go back in and get it for you.”

“Shiro, it’s been nice seeing you again too.” Sam Holt stepped forward to meet them. “No, we didn’t leave anything in the ballroom. We were actually hoping to buy the two of you a drink.”

Colleen had stopped pacing and was looking over Sam’s shoulder, but not at Shiro. She was looking right at Lance with something approaching recognition on her face. Lance stopped right where he was. Colleen Holt had eyes like a cop.

Shiro stopped too, picking up on Lance’s discomfort. “We could head up to the penthouse. Pidge is up there right now watching TV with Kuro.” Kai and Haruka were also up there keeping a close watch over the teens. They wouldn’t be alone if they went up there.

“I need to talk to you.” Colleen spoke directly to Lance. “It’s about your father.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“Gimme.” Keith held his arms wide open as Hunk came back into the bedroom. “I’m so hungry right now, you don’t even know.” Sex burned a lot of calories when done with enthusiasm.

They’d taken a short break to rehydrate with glasses of orange juice. Then they’d decided to throw on bathrobes and unwrap a few of their gifts, one of which was a folding bed tray that they decided to use immediately. Hunk warmed up Keith’s shoyu pork along with some other tidbits from the fridge, while Keith cracked open a couple of beers and trooped back to the bedroom with them.

“Actually,” Hunk smirked as he settled the bed tray down on the ruffled duvet and accepted a proffered beer, “I do know how hungry you are right now.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
One of the hotel’s lounges was still open and serving customers. The party of four took seats in a back corner where the primary light source was a single candle in the middle of their round table; an oasis in a customer desert. Their cocktail waitress brought them complimentary potato chips and marinated olives with little sword picks stuck through them. Lance’s mind tripped back in time to another much seedier bar with near-rancid olives served on wooden toothpicks. Shiro’s hand found his under the table.

Lance used his free hand to start stuffing his face with potato chips for something to focus on besides the woman across the table who said she’d known his father and that he’d died in the line of duty. Pidge’s mother, she’d said she worked with Charles McClain, did that mean he was a cop too, or just a snitch? Shiro ordered him some drink with a cute name while he was distracted with stress eating. The waitress returned with a fishbowl glass containing a cocktail that had aged Japanese whiskey as its star ingredient, and which tasted kind of like a hot toddy except it was served cold. Shiro had a wobble glass of just the whiskey, served neat.

The Holts had both ordered Negronis. All four of them silently imbibed, until Shiro and the Holts had made respectable inroads in their drinks and Lance had drunk his down to the ice cubes and started gnawing on the candied fruit peel that was used as a garnish. Shiro signaled to the waitress and ordered them all a pot of chamomile tea, putting it on his own tab.

When he had a cup of tea warming his hands, Lance finally spoke. “If he died doing his job, then why wasn’t his body claimed before Darrell had to make a special trip for it?”

Colleen winced. “There’s another agent still in the field. Nobody wanted to put her at risk.”

So he was a cop. Giving Charles McClain an honor guard burial would have certainly been a tip off to the presence of undercover agents, if anyone happened to be watching for something like that.

Shiro leaned across the table. “Is Lance in any danger from these people?”

“I don’t see why he would be,” Colleen replied, frowning into her tea. “Stoker is the one who applied as next-of-kin and signed for McClain’s remains. Anyone checking into that would find out that their connection predated McClain’s activities in Los Angeles. It’s not likely that they’d look any deeper than that.” 

“The reason Darrell knew where he was is because I went to the coroner’s office and asked a lot of questions,” Lance told her, and felt a jump of anxiety from Shiro.

“They wouldn’t have a record of it that would be useful as a lead,” Colleen said. “Anyway, Chip was sent in as a low level infiltrator so that he could get messages in and out for a high level informant. Part of his job was to stay under the radar, and he was good at his job. Our other agent would have sent out a warning if he was killed for being made as an operative, and she hasn’t done that.”

Lance thought of his dream again. “You don’t know why he was killed?”

“We have suspicions.” Colleen held his gaze in the low light. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what they are just yet. This is still an active investigation.”

“I guess if they did know about me and were ever going to do anything about it, they had plenty of chances before now,” Lance said, squeezing Shiro’s hand, for now it was he whose nerves were nettled. “But nothing has happened.”

“I just wanted you to know that your father was a good man.” Colleen’s expression was sincere. “He wanted to help, in whatever way he could. His loss has been felt.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Trigel D’Alterio lifted the lid on her gel-cooled wine tumbler and took a sip. Her limoncello was perfectly chilled; technology was just so neat. She scrolled through the unpublished post on the glowing screen of her MacBook Pro one last time. All of her sources were properly credited, all of her photographs timestamped and subtly watermarked. Any enterprising fact-checker reading her blog would be able to backtrack her sources and verify their authenticity for themselves.

By far her favorite photo was the one she’d snapped of all three Party Omegas caught laughing together while doing the cha cha slide, all in a row. She’d initially been disappointed but not terribly surprised when the Beverly Wilshire hotel’s general manager had stonewalled her attempts to confirm rumors of a secret high profile wedding on the premises, and accepting when he’d offered an invitation to his own wedding as a conciliatory gesture. It was good policy to maintain friendly relationships with the people who could either make her job easier or much more difficult. Never had she imagined it would pay off as well as it had. She’d managed to confirm the clandestine wedding of Takashi Shirogane after all, as well as the first and married names of the now internet-famous Party Omegas.

She’d even managed to scoop a would-be rival on the East Coast. She’d considered sitting on this story to publish in her syndicated column, but when her rival’s ill-informed and rashly speculative post came to her attention, she’d thought better of that and decided to post to her own blog first. She could do a follow-up treatment for her column later. The opportunity to teach Herakles a lesson in the importance of accuracy to maintaining one’s credibility was just too good to pass up. Having the good fortune of a patrician bloodline was no excuse for allowing lazy habits to develop in one’s pursuits, Trigel’s own much-missed parents had taught her that.

Her finger hovered over the button that would give Herakles her comeuppance and extend the Party Omegas’ fifteen minutes of fame for a little while longer. _Click._

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Lotor hardly thought the first floor conference room was the ideal surroundings for a conversation of this nature. Especially as it was barely gone 9 a.m. and his mother had not seen fit to provide any herbal liqueur for his morning coffee. “I was going to divorce her anyway,” he groused as he helped himself to another cup from the silver pot on the tray in the center of the table. Somehow Acxa had managed to have their marriage annulled without his input. Really, she had saved him the trouble of tossing her out on her shapely behind. 

“Then you won’t be too heartbroken to remarry in very short order,” Honerva said, passing the butter to their honored guest, an elder beta colleague of hers by the name of Maahox. He was a chemist. Lotor never could remember where he was from. Someplace where it got cold enough to freeze damp hair, which was probably not of major concern to Maahox, as he had very little of it.

“Who will you have me wed next, mother?” Lotor opened a jar of jam for his croissant. “Will it be Merla this time?” He gestured across the table at the redhead with his spreader knife and she bared her teeth at him.

“No,” Honerva said as calmly as if they were discussing what car Lotor should buy now that his beloved Jaguar was impounded. “You need to marry someone who can confer upon you the privilege to live in a country with no extradition treaty. That’s where Koloman here comes in.”

“Yes.” Koloman Maahox regarded Lotor across the table with an unnerving stare. He’d lost one of his eyes in a lab accident, never bothered to have himself fitted for a prosthesis and refused to wear an eye patch. “You do have a title, is that still correct?”

“He stands to inherit a title,” Honerva answered before Lotor could get so much as a syllable out. “Only an Act of Parliament could prevent him from doing so, or a special remainder for his father, if Zarkon should ever manage to get over himself long enough to produce another legitimate child.” Honerva bit into her toast. “Neither of those possibilities is very likely to occur.”

“That sounds like a viable situation,” Maahox mused, as he produced a flask from somewhere on his person and doctored his coffee. “My daughter lost her first husband you see, terrible accident, so sad.” Maahox didn’t sound even slightly sad.

“So she’s single and ready to mingle,” Lotor smarted off, earning a glare from his mother.

“No, Raiza married a film producer and moved to Hollywood, and took my infant grandson with her.” Maahox swirled his coffee. “She picked better with number two, I’ve never had to intervene in that situation, but unfortunately Roland is not a very strict stepfather and my grandson has taken to running amok and making a rather regrettable reputation for himself.” He took a slug of the coffee. “Raiza is in despair of him ever finding an appropriate suitor who can tame him into settling down by his twenty-first birthday.”

Maahox was attempting to inveigle him. He clearly wanted to excite Lotor’s alpha drive to prove he could dominate a wilful creature, but Lotor was getting a mental image of a spoiled brat who wouldn’t come out of his room when called. “If he’s been running in Hollywood circles, perhaps I’ve heard of him.” He doubted it though.

“Perhaps.” Maahox withdrew a wallet out of his breast pocket, fished out a laminated portrait (people still carried those?) and skimmed it across the table at Lotor.

Staring up at him from the glossy print was a very attractive young man with auburn curls perfectly framing fine aquiline features. He was exactly to Lotor’s taste in male omegas, except for how the demure moue of his lips was at odds with the calculating tilt of his dark green eyes. Lotor knew he wasn’t imagining it either, because in fact he was acquainted with this omega. Intimately acquainted.

“This is a picture of Saint Raible.”

“Oh, you do know each other?” Maahox, who should have been alarmed by this realization, instead seemed quite chuffed. “How fortuitous! We can skip the protracted chaperoned courtship and get straight to the ceremony!”

“You’ll need to get right on with the business of making heirs,” Honerva said, carving into a ham steak. “Your father’s case for a special remainder will look more sorry with every legitimate Manigford you manage to make before he can.”

“If that’s your design Mother, then I hope you’ve budgeted for plenty of push presents.”

Getting Saint into bed had never been a problem. Getting him to the altar could be accomplished using the enticement of a title and the collusion of the omega’s own family. Getting him to safely house another human being inside of his body for nine months? There had to be something in it for Saint or it simply wasn’t going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Shay doing the dirty dancing lift while drunk at parties was a headcanon I never knew I needed in my life.


	22. Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had, plans are made, traveling happens. What's a romantic comedy without an airport clinch or two?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to each and every one of you who has stuck with me this far. I appreciate all of you much more than words can say.

  
Hunk woke up feeling a little muzzy and a lot like he’d been doing dead-lifts at the gym. He blinked his eyes open to midday sunlight filtering through the palm leaf design on his bedroom curtains. He had somehow wound up sideways on the bed, with one of the decorative needlepoint square pillows under his cheek, instead of the contoured pillows he usually rested his head on. He saw two of the four contoured pillows down on the floor, jumbled up with the other square pillow and two bathrobes. The rest of the bedroom was probably in a similar shambles.

After finishing their midnight snack, Hunk and Keith had tested out the sex-worthiness of the mamasan chair in the bedroom corner (rattan was very sturdy), the grab bars in the shower (A++ construction), and the extension rods in the walk in closet (RIP extension rods, good thing one of the wedding gifts was a brand new closet organizer). They may have also destroyed a blanket rack, but the blankets had fallen on top of it and hidden whatever damage might have been done there, so Hunk wasn’t entirely sure. His reflexes had saved Keith from tumbling down after the blankets, and then they’d knocked a bunch of stuff off the dresser and kept going at it. After all that, Hunk wouldn’t be shocked if he went into the bathroom and found a tiger in there.

A warm body draped over Hunk’s side, angled jaw scenting the fresh claim mark in the crook of his shoulder, strong arm wrapping around his waist and reaching for his schlong. The tiger was still in the sack with him.

“Good morning,” Hunk said. It sure was a good morning.

“Gonna get better,” Keith replied, and then the doorbell rang.

Well, damn. “That’s probably Mom with brunch food.”

“Why did we agree to this again?”

“Because we thought it’d be nice having them cook for us and your mom was giving us the tractor beam look.”

Keith’s mom could deploy a look capable of making a person say yes before they even knew what the question was.

“Right.” Keith’s hand disappeared as he flopped backwards on the bed behind Hunk. “Guess we better splash some cold water on ourselves and shelve this for later.”

Hunk rolled over in bed and indulged in a caress, and got a happy trill for the gesture. “You can take a quick shower if you want,” he said. “I’ll stall them.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
For the most part, Hunk was an epicurean, enjoying the simple pleasures of life with ethical restraint. However, he could be hedonistic in some aspects of his life, and Keith was totally there for it when he was. One of those aspects was the rain shower system in the master bathroom. The massage setting on the system’s hand-shower was not totally necessary to get a body clean, but it was totally worth whatever Hunk had splurged to get it. Keith rinsed lemon verbena scented lather off of himself and regretfully shut off the water.

He wrapped one of Hunk’s extra large bath sheets around himself like a toga before exiting the bathroom. The air coming in through the cracked open door and mixing with the steam from the shower carried with it the scent of a friend. Keith didn’t have a problem being naked in front of Lance, but he wasn’t sure if the bedroom door might have been left open so that his rather overprotective cousin could keep an eye out for him. It turned out the door had been closed, so Keith dropped the towel as he cast about on the floor to locate the bathrobe he’d left there... somewhere. Lance had parked his rump on the end of the bed in skinny jeans that had probably cost more than the duvet they were presently in contact with.

“You sure that’s where you want to be sitting?” Keith lifted some blankets off the floor and found the rack they’d been displayed on in pieces.

“The chair in the corner is way worse.”

He had a fair point. Keith spotted the bathrobe lying in a heap with some pillows on the other side of the bed. He could feel little beams of chagrin coming off Hunk from wherever he was, and knew that he must be getting embarrassing questions from a relative. He hoped it wasn’t Akane. He needed to get out there and take some of the heat off his mate.

“Oh hey, you don’t have to put that back on.” Lance rose from the bed and gestured toward the dresser. “Hunk let us into your room so we could help move your stuff, so I grabbed you some clean duds.”

Lance had brought him a v-neck sweater and black jeans with clean socks and underwear, folded neatly on top of the dresser, which had been wiped clean of other objects. Keith started skinning into the clothes. “Who’s ‘we’?” It was socially frowned upon for other dynamics to enter an omega’s sleeping space without an explicit invitation, but Keith was married now, so his space was legally also Hunk’s space.

“Just me and Kuro, your mom’s not here yet.” Lance found Keith’s loafers kicked behind a large potted umbrella plant and fished them out. “Your in-laws are taking over the kitchen. I figured while they’re busy with that it’ll give us a few minutes of privacy to talk to Kuro about his love life.”

Keith nodded. That was definitely something that needed doing, and if his mother wasn’t here yet that meant Akane wasn’t here yet either, so Hunk should be fine handling his own family’s inquisitive nature for a few more minutes. They left the bedroom together, cutting through the dining room as the shortest path back to Keith’s old room. The charm of a vintage Craftsman style bungalow was also its downfall when hosting a house full of company: the rooms flowed into each other in order to maximize living space. The house didn’t have the type of hallways that could be easily exploited for sneaking purposes, so they wound up walking a gauntlet of hugs and congratulations to get to the other bedroom.

At least Hunk got his cue that he could take his turn in the shower, politely disengaging himself from a conversation with Jiro and Shiro, the latter of whom was blushing ferociously at the smell that was rolling off of Hunk. Lance and Keith ducked into the guest room, where Keith discovered that most of his belongings had already been boxed up for transport into the master bedroom. Kuro stood looking into one box in fascination. Keith looked over his shoulder to see what had enraptured him so, and smiled. It was his nail grooming kit.

“Would you like me to put some nail art on you?” It had been a little while since Keith had gotten to really play with that kit. The hotel had a dress code for employees which meant he’d had to maintain a natural looking manicure on his fingernails.

Kuro sighed in a way that said he wished he could accept the offer. “Haha has given me more permissions than I have ever had these past two days. I do not wish to test him.”

Keith could understand that. However, there might be a compromise solution. “How would you feel about some toenail art?” Keith himself was currently rocking bright red toenails with little gold stars.

Kuro perked up. “If I keep my socks on, Haha might not even notice until after we are at home!”

So Keith had Kuro remove his shoes and socks and sit on the daybed, and propped one of his feet up in his lap as he sat across from him in the Eames style plastic armchair. Kuro’s narrow, long-toed foot was very well cared for, with smooth skin and neatly-trimmed nails. Not a large canvas to work with, but an exceptionally clean one. Lance sat beside Kuro on the daybed with the kit open in his lap and one ear open for anyone approaching the bedroom door. Haruka was out there, and if she knew what they were doing she might raise a counter argument that Kuro might actually listen to.

“What kind of design would you like?” Keith asked.

“I think something in green would be nice.” Kuro smiled dreamily. “It's Pidge’s favorite color.”

Lance gave him a pointed look, and Keith didn’t miss the message. They had just been gifted the perfect segue to open a conversation on Kuro’s suitor, but Keith just had to get something else out of the way first. “What about your favorite color?” Keith didn’t have to ask what that color actually was, he already knew.

Kuro’s lips twisted in indecision. “Black would make my toenails look unhealthy, would it not?”

“Nope.” Keith reached across to the box perched on Lance’s lap. “We can get both colors on your nails and it’ll look good. Watch and learn.”

He got out the silicone toe separators and got started. First he applied a quick dry base coat in black, while Kuro watched him, biting his lip. Keith sped up the drying time with his favorite uchiwa fan, then got out his nail art pens and made some little yellow dots on the fields of black.

“You promised green,” Kuro reminded him when he saw him reach for a blue-violet pen after putting away the yellow.

“I remember,” Keith said. “Be patient, I’m not done yet.” He started painting small petals around the yellow dots. “So you’re really into Pidge, huh?”

“You both said you married the best alphas you had ever encountered,” Kuro said, surprising Keith into pausing in his work and glancing up. “Well, I believe that I have met mine.”

“Does that mean you’re changing your mind about getting married?” Lance asked, turning his head away from the door to regard Kuro seriously.

“Who said anything about getting married?” Kuro looked a bit blown back. “We’re courting, not engaged. I think I would like to marry Pidge someday, but not right away.”

“That’s where courting usually leads, though,” Keith said. “Especially once you start signing paperwork to be legally recognized, courtship can wind up being pretty short.”

“Well mine will be long,” Kuro said decisively, drawing himself up in a mannerism that was quite a bit like his brother. “It will have to be, we don’t live in the same country.” He slumped.

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing if you want a long courtship,” Lance said, leaning against him slightly.

“Definitely not a bad thing in that case,” Keith agreed. “If you guys were living in the same place you’d be tempted every day to move in together, and once you move in with your alpha you might as well be on a moving walkway to the altar.”

“Do you wish you had waited longer?” Kuro had been staring at Keith’s neck off and on while trying not to be obvious about it, and he was staring again.

“No.” Keith couldn’t find a bit of regret about the way the wedding had happened. Not even his little meltdown over the fashion tape. Although he could’ve wished he’d gotten to eat more during lunch and dinner. “I’m not you, though. You’re the only one who knows the right time to get married for yourself.”

Kuro’s shoulders hunched up a little. “I guess,” he said, but he was smiling again.

Keith finished the petals and switched to the green pen, filling in some of the space around the flowers with vibrant leaves. “There,” he said. “Now you’ve got forget-me-nots on your toes.” They stood out more against the black than they would have against something less stark.

Kuro happily wriggled his toes in the silicone separators. “Thank you Keith, I love them!”

Keith let Kuro borrow his geta sandals to wear until his toenail art fully dried, and then the three of them continued moving Keith into the master bedroom. Keith didn’t move everything, deciding that some of his old belongings could remain in the guest room until or unless he decided he wanted them in the master bedroom after all. His mother arrived to help before they had finished, getting the task over with all the quicker, just in time for brunch to be served.

Hunk’s mother and aunt had prepared fritters, frittatas and stratas using the wedding leftovers, served buffet style alongside the remains of the wedding cake. There had been quite a few bottles of open bubbly left over, which were now put to use making mimosas and prosecco lemonade, with plain orange juice and lemonade for the kids. There was also a lot of hot coffee. In addition to the machine already in the kitchen, Lance had given them a Chemex as a wedding present, and someone else had given them a programmable drip machine, so they were able to brew plenty of caffeinated goodness to distribute around the crowded table.

Keith made himself at home on Hunk’s lap and found that he’d piled up his plate with enough food for the both of them to share. “Thanks babe.” He kissed Hunk’s smiling face and thanked his lucky stars they’d made it.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Saint flopped back on satin pillows and gazed listlessly around at his sumptuous cell of a bedchamber. Persian carpets littered the floor because goodness knows Roland Garrett could afford such ostentatious luxury. Oil paintings adorned the walls because television would rot Saint’s brain (according to his mother) but fine art had a salubrious effect on one’s mental faculties. Marble-topped, claw-footed furniture inherited from Saint’s late and unlamented biological father held his personal effects, and a fireplace that hardly ever saw use held an assortment of decorative candles because the mansion was in Studio City for fuck’s sake, not the Alps. He used to look around this room and imagine how he’d change the decor if he were the queen of the proverbial castle.

Now he tried to imagine what his life would be like if he became the lordling of the palatial estate house still held in his name overseas. He’d been born in that house but he had no recollection of living there. All he had were photographs taken by the family’s brokerage firm; pictures of a neoclassical manor fronted by Corinthian columns in a forest that inexorably crept closer year by year in a bid to reclaim the space where its foundations had been laid. Raiza let out the estate now and again as a private retreat for distant relatives among the elite, but it was hardly in any state to become a year-round home for an unmarried omega with almost no retinue to speak of.

And yet he might have to make do and face a fate he certainly hadn’t envisioned for himself. He’d earned superlatives at the private day academy he’d attended growing up, and some of those superlatives had not been listed on his high school transcript but had nevertheless made the rounds. He’d gone on to make even more connections while attending a finishing school in an Orange County beach community. The finishing school had been at his mother’s insistence. Roland had made a case for sending him to college instead, but that had been vetoed by both Raiza and Saint, who had decided in early adolescence that he was going to follow in his mother’s footsteps and marry well.

Perhaps he should have listened to Roland. The end of his non-immigrant visa was nigh, and he’d done fuck all to acquire citizenship because he’d put all his energy toward a plan to marry someone who could give him a permanent resident visa. Every prospective alpha that met his first look requirements either wound up disappointing him in some way or fucked off with some other omega. Saint was beautiful and fully capable of passing those features down to his pups (unlike some surgically enhanced omegas he knew), intelligent and well-versed on many subjects worth talking about (unlike that Jessica Rabbit lookalike who’d lured Kala away at the wedding of one of Roland’s poorer distant relations), and he knew his way around a knot (he’d be very much surprised if that servant who’d stolen his bouquet could claim the same). What the hell else did these alphas want out of a bride?

The clatter of the garden doors opening and the muted thunk of high heels on velvet carpet announced Saint’s mother letting herself in through his sitting room. The heavy drapes separating the sitting room from the bedroom area were pushed aside and there she stood, blonde hair majestically coiffed, blue bodycon dress showing off the sleek curves she maintained with the assistance of a nutritionist and a personal trainer. She’d started to frump a bit after giving Saint his younger half-sister Leda, but she’d won it all back with her usual ruthless focus.

“Pack up your warmest clothes,” she said. “Your grandfather has found you a serviceable groom and we haven’t a moment to lose.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Rolo had leased commercial space in a strip mall on Wilcox, squeezed in between a liquor store and a temp agency. The rent was a sacrifice, but it was a necessary expense if he wanted to get his business off the ground properly. If he happened to be using one of his office closets to sleep in, none of his neighbors seemed to care enough to report him. The former tenant had been running a beauty parlor and one of the wet stations had been left in place, which was convenient for when Rolo needed to spiff up before meetings with clients. It was also convenient for cleaning up a protégée before meeting said clients, though fortunately not always necessary.

Rolo’s experience with Lance and Keith and their respective alphas had taught him a couple of things. Number one: never get in another alpha’s way when they’ve decided they want to be with an omega. Rolo had always been primarily attracted to beta women, so he hadn’t fully appreciated how territorial other alphas could be, but he’d gotten the memo now. Number two: even alphas of means had trouble meeting potential mates, and there was a business opportunity there for anyone who knew a lot of sexy omegas.

Rolo knew a _lot_ of sexy omegas. Most of them were sex workers, but that didn’t seem to put off rich alphas all that much. The main barrier from where Rolo was sitting was accessibility. All these single omegas were living in places the rich alphas didn’t frequent, and if they didn’t frequent a place then it might as well not exist to them, because if there was one thing Rolo had learned about rich alphas it was that they could have some serious tunnel vision. They needed an intrepid guide, and that was where Rolo and his services came in.

He already had his foot in the door, thanks to word getting around about Lance and Keith, and rumors of his and Nyma’s involvement in their good fortune. He’d already managed to place a sweet down-on-her-luck girl named Moya with a socially awkward neurologist named Keats, which gave him his first matchmaker’s commission and a welcome bump to his reputation. The match between Malocoti and Kala Drule was looking very promising. He had, of course, experienced some nerves about taking her to that wedding. Malocoti was boisterous for that crowd, but that wasn’t his main concern; he’d known that the bride would never turn her away even if she got drunk and danced on a table.

His main worry was that he was probably not welcome within a three mile radius of the matron of honor. The problem was, if he didn’t show, then people who’d mistakenly assumed he’d had something to do with the happy occasion would wonder why he wasn’t there, and then they’d start speculating about it, and nothing good could come of that. Rolo needed a few more successes to his name before his business reputation could hope to survive the revelation that he’d just been a bystander to the two matrimonial matches that had inspired him to hang out his shingle. Luckily Malocoti’s cyclamen scent and abundant personal flair had won her an admirer, so the risk had paid off big time. Luckier still, Lance’s own brother not only hadn’t reacted to his presence, he might even wind up sending some word of mouth business his way.

It was a shame he hadn’t found a match for Marco’s friend in real time, though. Doing a favor for a relative of Lance’s would have gone a long way toward Rolo not having to look over his shoulder at social mixers to make sure Shirogane wasn’t coming up behind him. It was also a shame that Nyma hadn’t responded to his invitation to join him as a business partner. Last he heard, she was still hanging out with Zethrid and Ezor, beating up johns and running errands for that creepy weirdo Macidus. She’d taken off with the camper top from his Dodge Ram, god only knew how she’d moved it or where she had it set up now.

At least she hadn’t stolen the whole truck. Rolo kicked back in the tiny reception station with tepid instant coffee in a chipped mug. He couldn’t afford to hire a receptionist for what the temp agency had quoted him, so he’d been manning his own phone line. Maybe he’d hire one of the omegas to come in part time when his bottom line was a little more secure. He gazed out into the glaring light of another morning in the city, one hand raised to trace the scar at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

If he and Nyma were not meant to be, then that mark would fade. If they were meant to be, she’d come back, drawn back by the promise she’d left on his skin. All Rolo could do right then and there was drink his coffee and wait for the phone to ring, so that’s what he did.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Honerva paused in her packing as Merla knocked on the open door to the master bedroom.

“What is Lotor’s current standing?” she asked.

“Blue Notice,” Merla replied.

Honerva was not surprised. Thace worked fast when he wanted to, but it would still take him some time to work up to a Red Notice against the political capital that Honerva was able to command in defense of her son.

“Keep watching for news, and inform Herreh that we will need Lotor’s jet prepped for flight as soon as possible, and as quietly as he can manage it.”

“Yes ma’am.” Merla left.

In the meantime Honerva would finish packing for the wedding and call in a few more favors.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro and Shinji tried to stand unobtrusively near the café’s checkout counter without getting in the way of other diners, some of whom were also waiting for takeout. This small establishment with a large fusion-heavy menu had come highly recommended by Hunk and Keith. If the stream of locals pouring in and out was anything to judge by, it would prove to be a stellar recommendation. Not that Hunk and Keith’s taste in food was anything to sneeze at, mind.

Izu had returned from his sojourn with Cinda and promptly been put to the task of helping Tatsuo pack up the Veranda Suite. Lance was busy helping Kuro pack up his things in the cloister room, and Kai and Haruka had begun packing the rest of them out of the Penthouse Suite while Shiro and Shinji attended to getting takeout for their evening meal, which they would be sharing earlier than their usual habit in the penthouse dining room. All of them would be departing California on the following day; some in the morning, the rest in the afternoon. Kai and Haruka would be going ahead to New York while Shiro took Lance on an undertaking that was long overdue. Shiro and Shinji were taking advantage of this moment away from the others to talk about a few things.

“So you’re thinking Tatsuo will go through with letting Kuro come of age after all?” Shiro popped a lid onto the to-go cup of his fountain drink. “He’ll let him pursue dance training?”

“He has agreed to hire a tutor so that Kuro-kun may catch up with his cohort academically,” Shinji replied. “It is a very promising development, all things being equal. I will be keeping an eye on them to ensure that he does not withdraw his decision.”

A much closer eye than he had been up ‘til now Shiro was sure, and Tatsuo’s recent change in behavior suggested that such attention would not be unwelcome by him.

“I’ve missed out on so much of his life.” Shiro poked the straw through the lid, watching the fizzy liquid bubble around the ice. “I don’t want to miss any more.”

Shinji smiled in understanding. “I am familiar with the feeling.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
It was late in the day to be allowed visiting privileges, but the custodian at the information office had been sympathetic and let them in. Now he stood respectfully off to one side allowing the two omegas to pay their respects to their loved one. They sky overhead was beginning to turn the color of cherry blossoms as Keith and Krolia lit joss sticks of floral incense and placed a bouquet of purple asters in the water tin beside the headstone.

Akira Kogane had been laid to rest in a grave beside the marker that had been raised for Krolia years before. At the time of his death, the only civilians permitted to be interred in this cemetery were the surviving spouses of interred veterans, so that they might be together again in the great beyond. It was deeply ironic in a way that Akira, who’d possessed a fine appreciation for most forms of humor including some that might be considered inappropriate, would have probably found worthy of a chuckle. Someone had already seen to removing the date of death from Krolia’s marker. _See son? Bureaucracy doesn’t always run at the speed of a turtle farting._

Krolia sighed. “Your father would be trying to joke with us about this right about now.”

Keith smiled at her. “Yeah, and he’d find a way to throw a fart reference in there for good measure.”

Krolia smiled back. “Did anyone ever tell you about the time...”

They continued to share stories about Akira Kogane, beloved husband and father, selfless hero and teller of fart jokes, as the incense slowly wound out its sweet smoke. Keith had decided his inaugural trip in his new-to-him car should be here, for this, with his mother riding shotgun.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro ascended the private staircase and entered the suite with the keycard he had been given by Shinji. Itoko and Shiro had just returned from the café and begun setting out all of the dinner orders on the table, so Kuro was bidden to go and collect his mother, who still lingered in the Veranda Suite. Izu had already turned up with a roll-away folding mattress supplied by housekeeping, which he was meant to set up in the Penthouse Suite’s living room when it was time to go to bed. Kuro wouldn’t be at all surprised if he disappeared again to spend his last night in L.A. flirting with Cinda as she stood behind the front desk.

Tatsuo was not in any part of the indoor area of the suite when Kuro walked through it. Stepping out onto the terrace and spying his mother’s feet poking out of the glamping tent, he thought rather ungraciously that if Hahaue and Shinji were so intent on sharing a bed, then perhaps they could have spared the other one for Izu. He found the mental images that accrued from such ponders to be uncomfortable, so he set them aside and cleared his throat. Tatsuo’s feet abruptly disappeared as he made a noise that Kuro tried his best not to laugh at. Tatsuo’s pink face appeared from the folds of the tent. 

Kuro bit the sides of his tongue. “The evening meal has arrived, Okaa-san.”

“That is fine.” Tatsuo smoothed his outfit of a scarlet shirt with willow grey trousers, though the well-tailored garments hardly needed it. Somehow, Kuro’s mother never looked mussed, even when caught fussing around in a bed that he wasn’t supposed to be in. “Did they get my order correct?”

Kuro nodded. “Salmon Teriyaki with rice and vegetables.” Kuro himself had opted for Spaghetti Bolognese with a big slice of garlic toast. He had scarfed down the toast before leaving the penthouse.

“Very well, I am coming.” Tatsuo stared absentmindedly behind him into the tent a moment before turning and catching his son biting his cheek. “I can read the question on your face, you may as well go on and ask it.”

Many questions ran through Kuro’s mind. _Is Shinji going to become my stepfather? Did you mean those things you said to Shiro the night he introduced Lance to us?_

“Did you and my father love one another?” Of all the questions which had occupied his thoughts, that was not the one he’d meant to blurt out, but he could hardly take it back now.

Tatsuo looked momentarily stunned.

“I am sorry Okaa-san, please forgive me.” Kuro knelt to bow his apology, but Tatsuo put out his hand to stop him.

“No Kuro-chan, it is alright. You surprised me it is true, but I do not blame you. I never meant to cause you doubt about such an important matter as this.” He gestured for Kuro to join him on one of the wicker couches around the unlit fire pit. “Yes, your father and I did love each other. It was a more quiet love than the passionate romances of our younger years, but of no lesser worth to us. I will stand by my statement that it is important to honor your lineage by seeking to secure its future, however,” Tatsuo took Kuro’s hand, “I’ve come to understand that it is equally important to value the family who are with you in the present.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
There had been no time to shop for wedding gowns, not even for something off the rack. Ordering online and hoping the shipment would arrive before they did was so improbable as to be out of the question. Making an appointment with a bridal salon in the city of their destination would have also taken up time they simply could not afford to squander. In the end they’d little choice but to unpack Great Grandmother Krai’s wedding raiment from storage and take it aboard the jet with them.

Saint turned a tight circle in the bedroom of Roland’s business class jet so that he could display the gown to his mother’s scrutiny. He didn’t bother trying to cram himself into the bathroom, as the mirror in there would not have shown him a head-to-toe view anyway. Besides, his mother’s fashion sense was impeccable and she was not one to withhold her opinions for the sake of sentimentality.

“It’s fortunate for us that tradition dictated grandmother should keep the gown and that my mother invested in archival storage after she inherited it,” Raiza mused as she stepped this way and that getting as full a picture as she could in the small room. “It’s still in quite good condition.”

The gown had been dry-cleaned and stored in an acid-free and airtight container, carrying only the slight off-white patina that revealed the garment’s true age. Tradition in the culture of Saint’s grandmothers demanded that brides keep their gowns throughout their marriage for good luck. Their family’s circumstances had allowed for this one to be preserved as carefully as possible. This had turned out to be quite lucky for Saint, since it ensured a gown would be available on short notice. The elders who would be performing the ceremony at the cathedral would not have looked benignly upon him if he’d attempted to enter the nave in a suit, no matter how expensive.

Over Saint’s hair, Raiza draped the lace scarf that matched the bracer gloves girding his forearms. For the first time since he’d donned the gown, she smiled, clearly pleased. “Yes, this will do.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shinji mounted the stairs to the Veranda Suite with a calm heart and a full belly. He had lingered in the Penthouse Suite past the dinner hour, enjoying the company of family and friends new and old whom he might not see in person again for many months. Tatsuo had gone up ahead of him some time before. Shinji was looking forward to catching up to him.

When he entered the suite, it appeared to be empty. Starlight shone through the dim rooms as Shinji stepped through them seeking, but not finding. As he retraced his steps, he saw through the open blinds that the fire pit out on the terrace was ablaze. He stepped out under a starry sky.

The glamping tent was lit from within. Shinji walked toward it, stepping up onto the AstroTurf and pulling aside the flaps. There sat Tatsuo on the queen-sized bed, dressed only in the flickering glow of candles placed at careful intervals on the floor.

“You’ve been busy.”

Tatsuo smiled. “I have grown weary of seclusion.”

Shinji let the flaps close behind him as he gladly accepted the offer which had just been so laconically put to him.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Shiro hadn’t planned to spend his last night in L.A. once again in the rooftop rose garden lounge, but when Leifsdottir oh so casually mentioned that it would be open for select guests that evening, he saw his opportunity and he seized it. It was the perfect chance for a private conversation to take place. He’d chosen a seat under the rose trellis where there was a particularly long garland hanging down. If a stiff breeze should somehow sweep him over the roof’s edge, he could grab the garland and swing to the ground like Tarzan.

“Your Siciliano, sir.”

Shiro picked up the coupe glass of dark liquid as soon as Moxilous set it down, and took a drink. Rich, bittersweet. Alcoholic. “Thank you Moxilous. Now cut me off, only black coffee from here on.” There was no need for a repeat of the antics which had taken place during Shiro’s bachelor party, he just wanted to take the edge off so he could forget about the edge of the roof being right there.

“Of course sir.” Moxilous then set a chilled cup of vanilla gelato down across from Shiro and turned to his guest. “Would you prefer I pour the espresso for you serah, or just leave it here for you to pour at your leisure?”

“You can pour,” Kuro replied. “I know that it should be poured while it’s still fresh and hot.”

“Very good serah.” Moxilous poured a shot of hot espresso over the creamy gelato, turning it into affogato, before politely advising them that he would be behind the bar if they needed him. They were currently his only patrons.

“You’ve been learning a lot about Italian cuisine lately,” Shiro said mildly as he watched his little brother sample the caffeinated dessert with a spoon. “Any particular reason, or just curiosity?”

Kuro savored his spoonful before answering. “Pidge has asked me for permission to court.”

Shiro could not have stopped the eyebrow lift if he’d tried. “Oh?” The news itself was not surprising, but the boldness with which Kuro had delivered it was.

“Yes.” Kuro lowered his spoon and met his older brother’s gaze across the table. “I have granted her suit.”

Shiro felt the smile stealing across his face, and he didn’t try to hide it. “The Holts are an honorable family. I approve.” Now it was Kuro’s eyebrows going up, and Shiro laughed. “Not that you needed it,” he amended. “You have it, regardless.”

Kuro smiled back as he dipped his spoon into the affogato again. “We are not getting married yet.” He glanced up at Shiro. “Pidge is still in college, and I still want to dance.”

Shiro nodded as he sampled his own drink. “That’s actually why I invited you here tonight. I wanted the chance to tell you that your mother is going to allow you to come of age with your cohort.”

Kuro swallowed. His expression was difficult to read, so Shiro continued.

“He’s going to let you study with a tutor so that you may sit for exams after your coming of age. Shinji says there are specialized training colleges with programs that can train you to dance professionally, and he promised to assist you in whatever ways that he can.”

Those ways were not inconsiderable, so that was not an idle promise. Shinji had a lot of entertainment connections in Tokyo. Kuro sat very still, looking at something inside of his own mind that Shiro could not see.

“Kuro.”

Kuro blinked back from wherever he’d gone in his own head space. “Nani?”

“I also want to help you,” Shiro said. “I’ll sign off on whatever funds you need to attend a dance program, that goes without saying, but if you ever need a place to stay, you are more than welcome to come and live in New York with me and Lance. I want you to know that.”

Kuro’s face opened like a flower. “I think it would be better to take on one major life change at the time, but I thank you humbly for your generosity.” He stood and bowed respectfully. ｢Thank you for troubling to help me, honored brother.｣

“It’s my pleasure to help you, Kuro-san.” 

Then Shiro stood with both hands out in an offer to scent. Kuro accepted the gesture, and Shiro forgot all about the fact that they were standing on a rooftop.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
There was a light fall of fresh morning snow on the ground when they checked into their hotel. The bridal suite was supersaturated in richly colored fabrics, warm woods and plush textures, and for now, the groom had it all to himself. Lotor fell backwards in bed and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d order himself some room service after his nap.

Someone knocked briskly on the door.

“Go away!” The ‘Marry Lotor Off’ committee had already been to the registry office at the break of dawn and gotten that whole rigamarole dealt with, they couldn’t possibly need him for anything else for at least a few more hours.

“You need a dress suit.” It was Honerva, still running strong on the unholy fuel supplied by her recent win at rearranging Lotor’s life to suit her. “Now, while the day is still young enough that the better shops won’t turn us away.”

“What’s wrong with all of the suits in my luggage?” The better part of Lotor’s wardrobe had been left behind in Beverly Hills, but he still had possession of enough clothes to look sharp in just about any setting that required him to do so.

“They’re not formal enough. You'll need white tie.”

Buggering hell. Resigned, Lotor rolled out of bed. “What good is being rich if you can’t wear whatever you want whenever you bloody well want?”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Kuro ate breakfast with his brother’s family and embraced them all with fond farewells before leaving the Penthouse Suite with Izu. He stopped in the lobby to trade well wishes with Keith and Hunk, who had come in to arrange for their honeymoon time off to be covered and to trade benign gossip with all of their friends in between errands regarding their passports. Keith thanked Kuro for the obi he had given him and hugged him for a long time. Then Kuro got into the Sequoia bound for LAX with his mother, bodyguard, and cousin. The now-notorious SUV would be returned to whence it had come, and so would Kuro.

He had texted Pidge to tell her that he was leaving, and she had texted back: _watch for me_. Kuro sent her a reply asking her what he should be watching for and where, but she did not respond. If she meant literally watch for her everywhere, she was pretty enough to stand out anywhere, but she was also very short. He was afraid he might miss her, but he faithfully watched for her from the hotel lobby all the way to the terminal where they received their boarding passes. He craned his neck around as they trudged toward the downstairs security checkpoint which Shinji insisted was the faster one.

There was no sign of her anywhere. Kuro sighed as they turned left near the baggage claim area, his eyes dropping to the tiled floor.

“Kuro!”

Kuro’s head shot up again. The others were looking around too.

“Kuro, wait!”

Running under bricks of white light, sneakers smacking the tiles, Pidge was headed right for him.

“Pidge!”

Kuro dropped his luggage where he stood and ran to meet her, Izu at his heels calling out in alarm. Kuro swung her off her feet, and then she swung him off of his. She was so strong! Izu stood there looking unsure if he should be trying to restrain anybody, and if so, who it should be.

“I looked all over for you,” Pidge said into Kuro’s shoulder, “what are you guys doing down here?”

Kuro reveled in the feel of her muscular little back under his hands. “Itoko-san says this checkpoint is the fastest one.”

Shinji strolled up to the hugfest smiling. “That’s because it is. Hello Pidgu-san.”

“Hi Shinji.” 

Then Pidge spotted Tatsuo, who had come up to stand between Shinji and Izu. Hahaue’s expression would seem inscrutable to an outsider but Kuro knew him well enough to know that his mother was paying close attention to the conduct of the alpha so blatantly displaying an interest in her son, and gauging her suitability. 

“Good morning serah,” Pidge said, and then she took Kuro’s breath away when she bowed deeply, scraping her right foot behind her, with her arms folded in a most elegant pose. 

He had never seen such a bow performed before, but it must surely be very respectful. He let loose a little trill before his mother shot him a look that made him swallow it. Then Hahaue bowed back! It was a tiny bow, but the important part was that he bowed.

“How do you do?” Tatsuo asked.

“Very well, thank you for asking. My name is Katherine Fara Holt.” Pidge straightened and stood before Hahaue, her entire demeanor shining with resolve. “It is my intention to make your son very happy. Please allow me to court Kuro.” She took a box out of a pocket on her white blazer, and opened it to reveal a lariat necklace of fine gold chain, dotted with stations of green citrine and anchored by a large cultured black pearl. 

She had already asked Kuro for permission to court, but the brave way she now stood before Hahaue was so impressive, and the necklace! Kuro purred. Tatsuo’s eyebrows raised fractionally.

“How do you propose to take care of my son?”

“I currently have stable salaried employment and a full ride to a top-ranked university. Within five years I plan to be financially comfortable enough to support Kuro completely if he needs me to, but it’s my understanding that he wants to pursue a career too.”

Tatsuo’s gaze slid Kuro’s way. “Is this true, Kuro-chan?”

“Okaa-san, it is true.” Kuro bowed. “I wish to become a professional dancer, and I wish to court Pidge.”

Tatsuo’s expression turned pensive as he turned back to Pidge. “And would you have him move in with your family here in California upon your marriage?”

“Kuro wants to focus on his career before we consider marriage, and I support him in that,” Pidge said.

“Oh?” Tatsuo’s pensive expression turned reflective.

“Yes, serah. Even if hypothetically we do change our minds and get married sooner, we wouldn’t have to move in with my parents. I mean, they have plenty of space, don’t get me wrong. But we don’t really follow that custom, and it’s probably a good thing because my mom still manages to get into my brother’s business all the time and they don’t even live in the same city, heaven forbid what a buttinski she’d be if I moved back in with a bride.” Realizing she was rambling, Pidge gulped and stood up straight again. “But the point I was trying to make is that if or when we get married, I am perfectly willing to live wherever Kuro wants to live.”

“And if where he chooses to live is in Nippon?” Some of Tatsuo’s reserve came back. “Would this not inconvenience you in your own career?”

“A little bit,” Pidge admitted, “but I’m a Mensa card carrying genius with good prospects for a securing a niche in the tech sector, so probably not all that much.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“You agreed to that courtship petition faster than I would have expected.”

Tatsuo tasted the salt-rimmed michelada Shinji had brought him rather than answering him right away. They were taking refreshments in a cantina that was past the security checkpoints. Kuro had seen that this place had agua frescas, and Tatsuo had decided to indulge him. Kuro and Izu had inhaled their tacos and left again to complete their omiyage shopping, while Shinji and Tatsuo lingered over cocktails. Kuro was already wearing his courting necklace, so Tatsuo had made Izu swear to stay close by him until they returned from their shopping excursion.

“This is good,” Tatsuo said, appreciating the spicy beverage. “Yes I agreed to let them court, and if you think about it a moment it was the only sensible decision. They are obviously in love, and it would be foolish of me to tell them not to be. In love is not something that can be controlled.”

“Not the emotion,” Shinji agreed, “but surely the reaction to it can be controlled.”

“You and I are of an accord.” Tatsuo smiled at the man across the table from him. “Consider this, though. These two live very far apart from one another. It would thus be very difficult for them to get into the sort of trouble that young couples eager to rush through courtship so often find themselves in.”

“That is sensible,” Shinji said. “But what of when they come to the end of their courtship? Will you still be so tolerant of allowing Kuro to marry one with no surname in the koseki?”

“This would simply mean that she would have to take Kuro’s surname for the registry and agree to allow their children to be registered as Shiroganes in the koseki. I am not opposed to this,” Tatsuo replied. “Ryu had hoped that his family name would live on through Kuro.”

“That was while we all wondered if Shiro would ever marry,” Shinji reminded him, “and now he has. Children will surely follow.”

“Yes, but what are the chances that his children will ever be registered in the koseki?” Tatsuo sighed, remembering his own imprudent attempt to remedy that issue. It was probably just as well that he had been unsuccessful. “Besides, Katherine Holt has given me a timetable of five years to prove that she is the worthy suitor she says she is.”

“And if she does?”

“Then our family gains an honorable new member, and at such a time I will remind her that she promised she would move wherever my son wishes to live. I would never get such a promise from any of the alphas who have pestered me to let them meet Kuro-chan up ‘til now, I can tell you that. I can also now tell those alphas that he is officially courting and therefore off limits.” Tatsuo shrugged. “Besides, anything can happen in five years.”

“Indubitably,” Shinji said, with that smile on his face that indicated he was thinking crafty thoughts. Tatsuo hoped to find out what those thoughts were later, when they were in a more private space.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Perhaps it was the sweet wine he’d just been made to drink, but Lotor felt himself to be caught up in one of the most phantasmagorical moments of his entire life (which had not been lacking for eventfulness up to this point). He sensed the shadow of the crown over his brow, the heat of the candle in his hand upon his cheek, as the light of many other candles danced across the interior of the most ornately furnished church Lotor had ever been in. The parish church of childhood memories, with all of its Gothic details, seemed understated in comparison to the rich reds, bright blues, and gobs upon gobs of gold. It was a psychotropic feast for the eyes.

The celebrant – Lotor still wasn’t certain if he was a priest or was meant to be addressed by some other title – led them in a circle around a table set up in the center of the nave. Lotor and his bride followed, their free hands holding onto the celebrant’s halcyon robes like children, as the choir and witnesses alike sang a hymn. They had been singing hymns from the beginning of the ceremony, a continual encircling vibration, such that if the chakras Narti used to go on about were real, Lotor was sure his must all be activated. The celebrant had practically sung his opening remarks at them. Even the bride’s younger sister, walking behind them holding the train of her brother’s gown, was singing like one of the cherubim.

Saint Raible was uncharacteristically somber throughout the ceremony. He had been brought through elaborate doors to stand beside Lotor in the narthex just before the ceremony began, wearing a floor-length gown of heavy satin in a mellowed ivory color that hinted of it being an heirloom. The design was a column with goldworked epaulets, discreetly showing off the lithe physique that had earned Saint the nickname Heavenly Bod. His tawny hair had been hidden under a lace-edged scarf, his talented hands also partially covered in evening gloves of a similar fabric. His face was as serene as the angels in the icons adorning the nave, making it impossible to read his true emotions.

That state of being would most likely not last the night. This was a union between an alpha and omega taking place in a very traditional setting. Unlike Lotor’s previous wedding, which had been a boho beach affair followed by a long and elaborate reception at a nearby country club, this wedding would be followed by a comparatively short celebratory dinner at a private banquet room in their hotel, the better to shoo the newlyweds off to the next order of business, and this time there would be no quarter given for excuses to the effect that they wanted to be a modern couple. Claim bites on the wedding night would be expected and Lotor fully anticipated that both of their mothers would check for them in the morning (and give them merry hell if none were to be found). Whether those marks passed the test of time was anyone’s guess, but Lotor was beginning to believe that he was going to come out of this a changed man regardless.

He was also beginning to suspect that his new grandfather-in-law would arrange to have a terrible accident befall him if he tried to surfeit himself in extramarital pursuits. After all, once Saint secured a legitimate heir with a spare for insurance, Lotor’s usefulness to that family would effectively be at an end. Perhaps he should allow his mother to keep at least one member of her security detail near him for the foreseeable future. Maybe even two members, so long as neither of them were Merla. If Grandfather Maahox ever did attempt to assassinate him, that one would most likely be inspired to join in and only regret her actions after it was too late.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“...forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation...”

Lance bowed his head and clutched the locket around his neck as the deacon concluded the rite of committal. Beside him, his mother clutched a rosary and his other hand. Darrell, as was usual for him, had taken deeply generous actions without seeming to be aware of just how unstinting those actions were, and he’d gotten Shiro in on it this time.

Shiro had bought a hotel. Specifically, he’d purchased an art deco boutique hotel in an historic neighborhood of Miami Beach, with seven guest rooms, a courtyard with a pool, and a three-bedroom caretaker’s cottage. Luis’s family and Lance’s mother were moved into the caretaker’s cottage, overseeing the renovation of the guest lodgings, which they would be managing with a deferred option to buy the property directly from Shiro. Veronica had elected to continue staying with her in-laws, feeling that her wife was more comfortable there. Since Dorma was expecting, her comfort was paramount.

The caretaker’s cottage had a small private garden which had been overgrown to a leafy green thicket when the new occupants moved in, but which they had trimmed back to begin creation of a sunken container garden. This was where the memorial service was taking place. With the deacon’s assistance, they had interred Charles Lance McClain into the two memorial lockets which Darrell had picked out for Lance and Vibiana, and into the terra cotta urn now housing the ginger lily plant Vibiana had safely brought with her from Los Angeles to Miami. The sunken garden concept had been chosen on the outside chance that Vibiana would ever want or need to move. With the ginger lily and ashes in a recoverable container, Charles need never be left behind again.

That urn had just been added to the garden, to take pride of place among the pots of rosemary, forget-me-nots, asters and zinnias which had already been placed around an angel fountain which had been discovered and restored after the vines had been cleared away. A memorial bench had been commissioned and would be set against the fence line between a coral tree that was doing much better now that it had been pruned, and a rose bush which they had planted under the trellis in the hopes that it would climb. The small garden, currently thick with family, would become a peaceful haven where Vibiana could retreat when she wanted to pay her respects. Lance could too, whenever he was visiting.

“...amen.”

**“Amen.”**

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“I thought you said this place was still in use.” 

Lotor turned to his bride for an explanation as to why their manor house, which they had driven to down a long drive enveloped with grasping trees like in a low-budget haunted house movie, was in the condition that it was so clearly in: two grand storeys of barely checked exposure to the elements.

“As a hunting lodge,” Saint replied, poker face in full effect but he couldn’t hide his private amusement from the bond sense. “A place for manly men to prove they can survive on a diet of game animals and strong liquor while bathing sparingly for days on end.”

Ah, the bond sense. Lotor was still trying to grow accustomed to it. Through it, he could now pick up on Saint’s humors whether he wanted to or not, and was finding his bride to be a young man of mercurial moods and irascible thoughts. It was like a mirror staring back at him. A mirror with endless reserves of snarky commentary.

They continued up the steps to the portico, granular snow crunching under their boots as Lotor silently observed how the plasterwork was crumbling away from the bricks. The oaken double entry doors had darkened unevenly from age, and condensation appeared to have been gathering in the transom window panes above it, promising a drafty interior. The doors creaked open onto a checkerboard floor that probably hadn’t been polished since the last lady of the manor had been in residence. The cavernous entry hall was completely devoid of furniture or any sign of human habitation, except that light did appear to be shining down from the upper floor, at a brightness level that couldn’t possibly be natural this late in the afternoon on such a foggy day.

Then a human descended the curving staircase; slowly, as if she could not believe she was having to trouble herself for this. She stopped halfway down and scowled at them through a face veiled in age spots to rival the front doors. “There you are,” she said. “I have been waiting and waiting, feeding your fireplace for hours. Your room should be warm as a rabbit’s entrails by now. Dinner will be served in the kitchen at eight o'clock. Do not be late or it will get cold and I will not remake it.” Then she tromped back up the stairs in a fine fettle.

“That’s Urinska,” Saint said. “She’s the house steward. Don’t worry, the kitchen has been better maintained than most of the rest of the house. It should be safe to eat in.”

“I don’t give a blooming toss what her proper title is.” Lotor was just about ready to get back in the Renault his new stepfather-in-law had given them as a wedding present and drive back to the hotel. “What did she mean by room, as in singular?”

Saint arched a fine brow at him. “I hope you’re not suggesting we should sleep in separate rooms. I’d hate to think of you being uncomfortable during our honeymoon.”

“Don’t be absurd.” If there was one thing Lotor didn’t take any issue with in this marriage, it was Saint’s prodigious sexual appetite. He wasn’t in any rush to get kicked out of the marriage bed, especially as Herreh wasn’t moving in to watch his back until the end of the week. “Are we really meant to be confined to one room in all of this cold, enormous house?”

“Only temporarily.” Saint turned and skipped up the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, “Think on the bright side. We can redecorate however we want!” Anything that irritated his new husband seemed to give Saint life.

Lotor climbed the staircase after him, careful not to touch the railing, as the green paint was peeling off of it in potentially toxic flakes. “I believe the word you actually meant to use was ‘renovate,’ my little love bucket.”

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Ryan called up the display settings on Matt’s desktop computer and hoped he wasn’t about to monumentally screw something up. He’d gotten an early morning phone call with a surprise offer on an ultra-wide curved touchscreen monitor that Matt had put on layaway months before. Apparently that model was going to be a Black Friday doorbuster and the manager felt bad because Matt had already sunk so much money into it, so he wanted to go ahead and sell it to them at the reduced price, but he couldn’t afford to sit on the offer for too long. While Matt remained fast asleep, Ryan went out to the electronics shop to close the deal, and now he was trying to add it to the multi-monitor setup in the home office without overtaxing the computer’s graphics card. He could have waited and let Matt do it after he woke up, but the opportunity to spring a nice surprise had won out over common sense, and now he was unwilling to concede to defeat.

Oh, wait. There. Now all of Matt’s monitors showed the same desktop wallpaper. Now if Matt wanted to configure the new monitor to work with all of his virtual machines as well, Ryan would just leave that job in his capable hands.

Satisfied with a surprise well sprung, Ryan pushed the task chair away from the built-in desk, and then the new monitor suddenly pinged him with a video chat call. What the crap? None of the other monitors had pinged. Just the new one.

Cautiously, Ryan reached out and tapped the touchscreen. The app opened to an unexpected yet not unfamiliar face staring back at him.

“Kolivan?”

_“Kinkade.”_ Kolivan nodded with a small smile. _“I apologize for resorting to subterfuge to speak with you, but I had hoped to bend your ear a moment and I am unfortunately unable to be there in person. I would like to make you an offer.”_

Ryan was too stunned to react with the instant suspicion he knew he should feel. This was like opening a stocking expecting to find a cellophane-wrapped candy cane inside and having Bumble the Abominable Snow Monster jump out instead. “What sort of offer?”

_“A change to the terms of your military contract. There would be drawbacks, but there would also be rewards. If you prefer to discuss it with your mate first that is fine, as some of this pertains to him.”_

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, his instincts recovering quickly from the momentary shock. “How?”

_“For one thing, the uniform regulation prohibiting visible claim marks would no longer apply to you.”_

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
Sunlight filtered through the blinds with a distinctly verdant cast; cool in tone and warm in temperature, but not as warm as the omega shifting under the covers. Shiro rolled over in bed and nuzzled his omega behind the ear. “What do you want to do today?” His voice was still rough with sleep. The previous day had been long and emotionally taxing, but morning brought with it a fresh new day, and a chance to finally get the honeymoon off to a proper start.

Lance turned in his arms and offered up sleepy kisses. If time got away from them, that was well and fine. There was nowhere more important for them to be in that moment than right there. “How about I make us some coffee and you microwave some of those croquetas Mamá sent us off with last night, and then we find out if that heated saltwater pool is as nice as your property manager made it sound.”

Shiro had followed up his purchase of a boutique hotel with another first for him: he’d arranged short-term rental of a house for him and Lance to stay in when they came to Miami for the memorial service. He’d known that Lance would want to linger near his family a little while longer, and he’d also known that Lance would not want to be uselessly underfoot while his family got the hotel ready to open for business. If he stayed there with them then he would want to work, and far be it from Shiro to ask Lance not to help out but it was their honeymoon. Shiro called the property management company that had been handling the lease agreements on the house he’d inherited in San Francisco, and they found him a property that was a reasonably short drive from the hotel, a reasonably short walk from the nearest beach, and which offered plenty of privacy. Ordinarily his habit was to book the best room in an amenity-rich hotel, but on this occasion the combination of prime location and privacy was too appealing to ignore.

So the decor was a little pastel for Shiro’s tastes, and they’d have to choose between cooking or ordering delivery whenever they wanted to stay in. Privacy with his new spouse was worth a hell of a lot more than classic interiors or twenty-four hour room service to him right then. The small heated pool Lance spoke of was directly outside the French doors from the master bedroom, and was surrounded by thick, high greenery; a tropical barrier capable of shielding many a reckless frolic. Theoretically speaking anyway, they hadn’t really put it to the test yet.

“If you’re putting public nudity on the table, I’m all for it,” Shiro said.

“In that case,” Lance jumped out of bed, wriggled out of his nightclothes and tossed them behind him with a cheeky grin, “meet me at the table.”

Shiro shot out of bed, leaving nightclothes behind him in a trail all the way to the seahorse-themed kitchen.

  
*~*~*~*~*

  
“You know, you don’t have to do this.”

Keith looked up at Hunk as they stood together in front of the observation window overlooking a hangar full of Cessnas lined up like dragonflies. Hunk had done great during their bus tour to Rouen, when their driver had aimed straight at the center of the roundabout around the Arc de Triomphe while cheerfully relating historical points of interest over the public address speaker as if there weren’t multiple other vehicles aimed at the same point in the road at the very same time. He’d done that leaving Paris, and he’d done it again on the return trip, and Hunk hadn’t lost his pain au chocolat or his galette compléte. This was different, though.

“This is an important moment,” Hunk replied. “I want to be there.”

Keith felt the ripple of excitement in his belly build again. It had begun when their taxi had dropped them off at Toussus-le-Noble airport, receded somewhat during the preflight instruction, but now it was back stronger than before.

Shiro had really gone all out with his wedding present, and they’d been enjoying the hell out of it. They’d had town cars pick them up to take them to LAX and from Charles de Gaulle. Their B&B was an easy walk to the Eiffel Tower, which they’d already done once, exploring the second floor observation deck with its spectacular views of the city and eating dinner in the restaurant there, with the city lights sparkling far below them. They’d caught the late show under the ruby red lights of the Moulin Rouge and gone to see _Elixir of Love_ at the Palais Garnier with its jaw-dropping interiors. They’d taken a dinner cruise on the Seine, taken their time strolling aimlessly down winding cobblestone streets, even learned to make macarons in an afternoon baking class, but by far the most amazing activity Shiro had made possible was the discovery flight.

He’d booked Keith two whole hours of flight time. Okay, so the instructor was handling take off and landing, but at some point Keith would be allowed to take the controls. He was going to fly! The real kicker, though? The discovery flight could be counted as dual flight time for flight training, should he choose to pursue it.

And he had Hunk’s complete support for this plan. He was proving it by putting his sensitive stomach in Keith’s hands for his first time ever piloting an aircraft.

“I want you to be there for all the things,” Keith admitted.

Hunk smiled bravely. “You got me.”

Keith jumped into his arms. “I promise after we’re back on the ground I’ll go with you to all the Chezs on all the Rues until they have to roll us back to the B&B.”

Hunk laughed. “You say that like I’m gonna say no.” He squeezed him tight. “You got me, for all the things, for all time.”

“I’m so glad I got you.”

A romantic clinch at an airport? Best fucking thing ever. Whoever started the trend that made it hunky-dory to neck in public at airports was a fucking GENIUS in Keith’s book. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith could see his flight instructor, a young beta named Bandor, discreetly pretending to reread his flight plan to give them a few more moments of privacy. Since he was being so nice, Keith would just let this thoroughly enjoyable moment go on as it would.

Sometimes wishes really did come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder here that I goofed on my chapter numbers, so next 'chapter' will actually be a preview of the sequel.


	23. Coming Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little excerpt from the first chapter of the sequel. It was going to be from a prologue in the sequel, but my muse laughed uproariously at that suggestion and told me it was going to wind up chapter-length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everybody who has read, and offered kudos and comments! I had a whole lot of fun writing this story, but it's also fun to share it. Since I messed up my chapter titles and it led me to input an incorrect number of chapters when I formatted the fic here, and I did have a head start on the sequel already, I decided to use this space to show a preview of what I was writing, and explain a little bit about my process and also put a question to you guys.
> 
> What you see below isn't everything I've got so far, but it's a couple of parts that I feel confident won't be edited into unrecognizabiliity by the time I post the whole story on its own.

OnE yEaR lAtEr...

* * *

  
Lance’s wine and dine plan had worked like a charm without him even needing to change into anything slinky first, which was fortunate, because there hadn’t been time for him to change into anything slinky. Haruka’s tisane had made him pee like a racehorse, which wound up turning into a whole situation. He’d then had to scramble to get the garden decorated before Shiro got home. Forget about sliding into a slinky number.

Now he scrambled across sateen bedding in the master bedroom, sliding out of his clothes as he went and tossing them all willy nilly. He didn’t think he’d been this horny since his wedding night, and he had no time to process whether that was any cause for concern before Shiro was on him, molding himself across Lance’s back, pulling him up to nip at the claim mark high on his neck. His hands spanned Lance’s rib cage, smoothing down to rub his most intimate places, where slick was running freely. Lance felt cool cotton against his back. He’d only managed to get Shiro’s jacket, tie and vest off of him on the way up the stairs, his hands partially occupied with carrying the remains of dessert.

“You’re still dressed,” Lance said.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

Lance squirmed in Shiro’s arms, pushing him back and sideways on the bed, which was plenty huge enough that he didn’t even come close to winding up on the floor. He leaned over Shiro and started popping buttons, one at the time, revealing a little more of his marble pale torso with every pop. Shiro skimmed his hands up the backs of Lance’s thighs to palm his bare ass.

“You don’t have to be so delicate.” Shiro was definitely rumbling now. “They’re just buttons.”

“You went mad that one time I ripped your shirt open and sent the buttons flying,” Lance teased.

“What?” Shiro raised his upper body partially off the bed, abs tightening magnificently. “I did not.”

Lance grinned, pushing the shirt off Shiro’s bunched shoulders since he’d so helpfully made that easier, and got started on his trousers. “You even bit me.”

Shiro laughed, but it had a bit of an edge to it. “You smartass.”

Shiro bucked to flip them so that he’d be on top, but Lance laughed and rolled off the bed, running over to the dresser for the whipped cream and dessert wine he’d set there when they’d tumbled into the bedroom together. When he turned back around, Shiro was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but a challenging expression. 

Shiro’s shirt on the floor suddenly mewed indignantly and scuttled in the direction of the cat cave bed next to the fireplace. Shiro struggled to maintain his cool cat alpha expression while the cat cave bed wiggled as the shirt deflated in front of it. Atlas’s fuzzy tail swished in agitation before disappearing inside of the felted wool cavern.

“Guess he told us.” Lance walked up between Shiro’s spread thighs and dotted his nose with whipped cream. “Alpha.” He kissed off the dairy topping and licked his lips.

* * *

ThReE dAyS lAtEr...

* * *

As he eased the Corolla into the garage beside the Crosstrek, Keith mused that maybe after he was able to bring in more money then they could afford to put an addition on the house. He loved the house, and he’d lived comfortably in much smaller places before, but its cozy size was starting to feel a bit tight now that they had the fur kid.

Keith opened the front door and was immediately tackled by sixty pounds of excited Alusky.

“Kosmo, down!”

Kosmo dropped to the foyer floor with all four huge paws in the air. Keith laughed and knelt to rub his fluffy belly.

“That’s a good boy.”

Kosmo wriggled on his back, overjoyed at the attention. At fourteen months old he still acted like a puppy sometimes. He might technically still be a puppy. The adoption counselor at the shelter had warned them that hybrids could keep on growing for up to thirty-six months, and Kosmo could still get a lot bigger. Kosmo rolled over again, head butting Keith’s hand for pats, which Keith provided.

“Find Hunk?”

Kosmo boofed, ice blue eyes relaying that he understood the command, and launched himself to his feet to take off for the back of the house. Keith followed at a more sedate pace, knowing that he could actually find Hunk himself just by focusing on the bond, but happy to give the dog something to do. He strolled to the back door where Kosmo had already exited through the high tech doggie door that read his microchip by proximity. Keith followed him out through the people door, then paused a moment to get the full effect of what Hunk had been doing out there.

He’d strung fairy lights above the entire back patio and set the outdoor table with triple-wick candles. It was not full dark yet, but when the sun finally went down they shouldn’t have to turn on the patio light. He’d found the firefly lantern from their wedding centerpiece and put it on the outdoor serving hutch next to a galvanized steel tub they’d received as a wedding present. Rising from the ice cubes in that tub were cans of red pop and long necked bottles of chocolate stout. Next to the serving hutch was the combo grill, in front of which stood the man who never failed to make Keith feel like he was home.

Hunk looked up from stirring something on the grill’s side burner to offer Keith a smile. “Hey! Good timing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to pick up a year later, starting with two wedding anniversaries. Yes, this is another bi-coastal tale of Shance and Heith, only this time they're both settled into their marriages and Lance and Keith are both well in pursuit of their chosen career paths. And they both have become pet parents. This fic is about them both becoming real parents. Yep, I'm going there. It's a preggo fic. I don't know if mpreg is the right word for an omegaverse situation, but I'll use the tag if you think it's appropriate. I don't have a title for it yet. I was originally going to continue with the fairy tale theme, but then I realized that all the fairy tales about babies and childbirth are terrifying, and this is a comedy series.
> 
> I want to warn you in advance that it might be a while before I start posting all of it. I usually like to have my first pass of edits in the bag before I start posting, because that way if I decide to change a plot point I still have a chance to do so without reposting a bunch of material. It's a lot harder to change your mind about that stuff once you've already starting posting it. I've done this enough times now that I know I write at a pace of about two chapters a month, give or take depending on how hectic RL is, and then I usually give myself about a week for edits. This fic was originally planned for nine chapters with a prologue and epilogue, but another thing I've learned about my writing habits is that I always wind up with a longer fic than I planned, so now I'm thinking eleven chapters. Probably. We'll see I guess.
> 
> Anyhoo, on to my question. I do have this fic outlined, with a number of events I want to hit along the way, but since I'm at the beginning and this is a unique situation for me, I wanted to open the floor to suggestions. If they're major plot point suggestions that conflict with my outline I might not be able to do it, but small moments I can probably fit in there. I would also ask you to bear in mind that I'm trying to stick with the comedic theme for this series. Don't feel like you have to make suggestions though, I do have an outline and I am going forward with it regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: as always, I am making no lucre off this fic, just having some fun.


End file.
